


Saudade

by GoDownWithThisShip



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Captain America 2 - Fandom, Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Angst, Background Relationships, Blood, Body Horror, Emetophobia, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-14
Updated: 2016-03-05
Packaged: 2018-01-19 08:31:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 33,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1462660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoDownWithThisShip/pseuds/GoDownWithThisShip
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zombie Apocalypse AU: Steve Rogers has been wandering from town to abandoned town in an attempt to reunite with his best friend. When he stumbles upon a mismatched group of people he is forced to come to terms with his relationship with his life-long friend, Bucky. As Steve listens to their stories of hope and loss, he is also forced to reevaluate his quest to find his lost friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Saudade. With no direct English translation, the closest definition would be: a deep emotional state of nostalgic or profound melancholic longing for an absent something or someone that one loves. Moreover, it often carries a repressed knowledge that the object of longing may never return. A stronger form of saudade may be felt towards people and things whose whereabouts are unknown, such as a lost lover, or a family member who has gone missing.

Steve folded his arms over his chest to keep the brisk autumn wind at bay. Soon his leather jacket wouldn’t be enough to keep him warm. But, now wasn’t the time to think about it. The dried leaves crunching beneath his feet were the only sound that seemed to echo down the barren street. It was the shell of what appeared to be a once beautiful small town. The streets were empty aside from a few haphazardly parked cars that stared at him with shattered windows. He passed the shops whose storefronts were either bare or boarded up. It seemed as though the town had been plundered for all it was worth and he was left standing in the ruins. But, that’s how most places were these days.

It was just another nameless town in a long string of disappointment. Dwelling won’t solve anything, he had decided a few towns ago, what’s important now is to keep moving. He needed a map. Just something to reference to show him where the hell he was. And where the hell he was going. The Barnes Estate, he internally repeated for the thousandth time. Meet at the Barnes Estate.

A loud crash broke the monotony and Steve quickened his pace in the direction of the noise. He turned the corner to find a small swarm of the dead. A quick count revealed eight of them, limping toward something. Converging on a single point by dragging their thin, broken bodies toward it.

He moved closer, slipping a worn, burlap, nap-sack from his back and rummaging around in it. All he had was a can of beans, a wool blanket, and a folded pocket-knife. He produced the knife and turned it over in his hands. The initials JBB scarred the handle and he ran his fingers over them slowly. One small blade wouldn’t be enough to take out the horde. He stood up and slipped the bag back onto his back, but stopped suddenly when he head shouting coming from the direction of the dead.

He finally realized what the dead were converging on. A woman of average height with hair that shone red in the afternoon sun was crouched in an attack position. Steve couldn’t make out what she was saying, but immediately sprang into action. He sprinted toward her, his mind and heart both raced with his feet. Don’t have a weapon. Need something to fight them off with…

As he passed some metal trashcans sitting on the curb, he stooped down and snatched a lid. There was a deafening crash as he knocked them over in the process. This caught the attention of two of the dead who were straggling behind the group. Their heads rolled in his direction and their pale eyes watched him blindly. 

He did not slow his pace and soon he was within striking distance of the dead. There was a sickening crack as the metal of the trashcan cover made contact with the dead’s decomposing skull. It stumbled backward as a thick dribble of dark blood seeped from the head wound. The other made a growling noise deep in its throat. Steve gripped the edges of his makeshift shield and landed a blow in the creature’s neck. This time, there was a sickening snap and as Steve pulled back, he saw the head hanging limply on its shoulder. He nearly choked as the creature continued to advance on him. A broken neck was not enough to stop it.

“What are you doing?” the coherent human speech startled him. He looked over to the red-headed woman who was throwing punches and kicks at the dead who were closing in on her.

He was about to answer when the feeble-necked zombie lunged at him. Steve swung the metal lid again, this time making contact with the skull. This time the dead fell at his feet, motionless. One down.

“You have ears don’t you?” the woman continued, seeming almost bored with her assailants. “What are you doing? Get out of here!”

“Can’t do that, ma’am!” Steve replied, turning his attention to the second zombie and unfortunately attracting the blank stares of others in the horde. “Not until you’re safe!”

“I’m fine!” she replied, laying a blow right into one of the dead’s faces. Crack. It fell limp at her feet. “Get out of here!”

“Again,” Steve swatted another creature with his makeshift shield. “Not until you’re safe!”

He noticed her roll her eyes and visibly quicken her movements. That’s when it hit him. She was using her bare hands to fight off the dead. Maybe she didn’t need his help after all. One of the dead toppled at him and he lunged out of the way. “I don’t have time to baby sit amateurs!” The woman shouted above him. “You need to leave!” The withered creature that had caused Steve to lose his balance was now crawling toward him and Steve rolled in the opposite direction. He found himself at the feet of another member of the dead. It reached down with gnarled arms to grope at him. He let out a cry and reached an arm toward his shield, which was just out of his grasp.

“Tasha!” a male voice called from somewhere unseen. A few moments later the red head was at Steve’s aid. First, she took care of the creature crawling toward him. Her foot landed on its face and it struggled beneath her boot for a moment before she pressed down and cracked its skull on the pavement. A pool of black blood puddled around its head and its body went limp.

She then kicked the creature that was reaching down for him in the chest. It toppled backward and she reached down to grip him under the arm. “Come on, let’s go!”

“Leave him, Tasha!” Steve turned his head to see who was speaking. A relatively tall man with dark hair and poorly trimmed facial hair was standing at the entrance of a nearby shop. He had multiple plastic bags in his hands and each were filled with what Steve assumed were supplies. Looters.

“Look!” the burly blonde man to his right cried, raising a finger. Steve turned to face what the man was pointing at and his eyes widened. A hoard, larger than any he had seen so far was limping toward them.

“Damn it! I thought this place was deserted!” The dark haired one nodded in the direction of a dark colored van parked on the curb. “Come on let’s get out of here.”

Steve scrambled to his feet and felt himself being pulled toward the van.

“Tasha! He isn’t coming with us!”

“Get in the van, Tony! We’ll talk about this later.” She opened up the back doors and all but threw Steve inside, hopping in after him. The dark haired man- Tony- and the burly man clambered into the front seats. Tony turned the key in the ignition and the engine grumbled in response.

“Come on!” he muttered, turning with more force.

“Tony,” Tasha said, eyeing the ignition warily.

“It’s going to work! It just needs a little time!” Tony shot back.

“That is something we do not have,” the burly man spoke.

“Yeah, let’s talk about what we don’t have. That’s really going to get us going!” Tony retorted.

“Try pressing the clutch.” Everyone turned to face Steve.

“Oh yeah?” Tony raised a brow at him. “And what do you know about old cars like this?”

“My grandfather had a truck. Same year. Always had to press the clutch to get it to start,” Steve explained as there was a loud bang. The dead had reached their vehicle and were pounding on the hood and attempting to climb up onto it.

“No need for an autobiography,” Natasha cut in. “Tony, do as he says.”

The man looked between Tasha and Steve before reluctantly pressing his foot onto the clutch pedal and turning the key. It took a few tries before the engine roared to life. He pulled the gear into reverse and rolled away from the hoarde.

“So, are we not going to discuss who he hell this guy is?” Tony asked, jerking a thumb in Steve’s direction as he threw the gearshift into first.

“My name’s Steve Rogers. Born and raised in Brooklyn, New York.”

“Is now the time to discuss this?” the burly one asked, turning in his seat to look at the hoard flashing past. Some of them reached out to the van with fingers curved like claws.

“It’s a good a time as any,” Tony replied. “Where’d you like to get dropped off Steve?”

“Tony-“ Tasha started, but the man cut her off.

“We’re not keeping him, Tasha. We’ve got enough mouths to feed. Besides, he’s probably got friends he needs to get back to.”

“I don’t have friends, truthfully,” Steve replied and the van went quiet.

Tony chuckled, “Well, that doesn’t surprise me. You seem like the broody type.”

“Does this look like the place for jokes, Tony?” Tasha hissed at him. “If he wants to stay with us, we should at least decide as a group whether or not that’s okay.”

“Does he wish to?” the burly one asked, turning in his seat and looking at Steve properly for the first time. He had chiseled features and deep blue eyes. “Stay with us, I mean.”

“Well, if you’d have me-“

“No,” the woman beside him said as she turned to stare at him. “None of that. It’s a yes or no question.”

Steve paused for a moment, his eyes wandering to meet each member of the van’s. Tony was staring at him through the rear view mirror as he weaved between the dead. The burly one and Tasha were both staring at him from their seats as well. 

“Yes.”


	2. Chapter 2

The car ride seemed dragged on and everyone seemed rather antsy. Steve gathered they all must be friends, but his presence interrupted their usual jovial interaction. After what felt like ten minutes, he spoke, “So, where are we headed?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Tony replied.

“Tony,” Tasha said warningly.  
“What?” Tony glared at her in the rear view mirror. “I’m just saying, what if he’s a raider? What if all he’s trying to do is loot us and then run back to his friends with our stuff?”

“I don’t know where they are. My friends I mean,” Steve replied and the car became uncomfortably silent once more. He let the silence linger for a few moments before he spoke again, “I had a friend…and we made a plan to meet up if we ever got separated.”

“Then why tag along with us?” Tony replied, his reflection squinted at Steve through the rear view mirror.

“How long ago did you get split up?” Natasha asked without giving Steve time to answer the other question.

“Gosh…I don’t know. Time doesn’t seem to work right when you’re wandering around alone out there. I’d say a week. At least,” Steve answered.

Natasha shot Tony a look that seemed to read See? Leave the poor guy alone. He’s had enough.

“But your friend,” the blond burly man had been quiet so far finally spoke. “What of them?”

“I don’t know,” Steve replied. “He could be dead-“ His voice caught in his throat and he looked down at his lap. He had tried to avoid that conclusion. He had been avoiding it. Tip-toeing around it. Always trying to remain optimistic. But it crept in sometimes and lingered at the corner of his mind. “Or, he could be out there. Just as lost as I am.”

“So we’re a pit-stop.” Tony’s voice was oddly flat and expressionless.

“Tony,” Natasha sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose between her index finger and thumb.

The car jolted to a halt on the empty road, the gearshift screamed out in pain, and Tony turned around in seat. “No, he needs to be honest with us! We’re not taking this guy in until we get answers. One hundred percent honest answers!”

“Ask the questions and you have my word I’ll give you the truth,” Steve replied calmly. 

“This is just a pit-stop for you. You’re not trying to stick around. Eventually you’re leaving to find your friend.”

“That’s not a question,” Steve countered in a weak attempt to lighten the environment. “Yes. I need to know that he’s alive.” He swallowed. “Or dead.”

“Fair enough,” Tony replied. “While you’re with us you’re going to have to pull your own weight.” His eyes rolled up and down Steve’s frame. “Which means you’re going to have to do a lot of pulling.”

Steve chuckled and was pleased to see Tony smile a bit as well. “I was never one to free-load.”

“Great!” Tony turned around in his seat and the car slowly rolled forward. They drove on a bit longer until the trees alongside the road were replaced with houses. At first they were spaced out, but the further they drove, the closer and closer the houses became. Finally, they took a left off the main road and drove down a side street lined with typical, cookie-cutter, suburbian homes.

The van sputtered to a stop in front of the last home on the right and the people inside stumbled out. If Steve hadn’t known better, he could have sworn that in that moment the world was normal. There weren’t hoards of corpses limping around and cannibalizing the living. 

He quietly followed the others up the path to the front door. The four slipped inside and Steve was amazed at how normal the interior was. Aside from boards and sheets covering all the windows and a heavy wooden plank that was slipped over the door behind him, he wouldn’t have guessed that anything was amiss.

“The neighbors all made a run for it once things started going south,” Natasha quietly explained, probably sensing Steve’s wonder. “That’s why everything’s so nice.”

Tony and the other man went right to the small kitchen just to the left of the entryway. “Did you use to live here?” Steve asked.

She nodded. “Yeah, it’s weird. I got so used to seeing people in their yards and in the street. Sometimes I half expect to look outside and see them there.” Before Steve could speak, she continued. “I’m sorry about Tony. He’s usually the life of the party. But he recently lost someone.”

“I understand.” 

“Tasha, could you come in here a sec, we need to have a little group chat!” Tony’s voice wafted over from the kitchen.

Tasha frowned. “Right. Be back in a minute. Make yourself at home.”

As she made her way to the kitchen, Steve decided to have a quick look around. He wandered into a small sitting area with a matching leather couch and loveseat set centered in the middle of the room. It did not have a very homey feel and for the most part the room lacked decoration of any kind. A picture on the mantle caught his eye and he crossed the room to pick it up and examine it.

It was of two people, one he recognized as Tasha, and the other was a sandy-haired man who he didn’t recognize. They were standing side by side in front of a large, marble fountain. Tasha’s face was blank, but her eyes seemed to twinkle with life. The man seemed to be caught mid-laugh. Steve noticed that the only contact between them was between their hands. It gave him a feeling of unintentional intimacy between the two.

He set the picture back on the mantle. “You’re needed in the kitchen.” Tasha’s voice caused him to jump. He hadn’t heard her enter the room. Steve turned around, feeling somewhat embarrassed for snooping, but if Tasha were upset about it, she didn’t show it. “You can handle kitchen duty, right?”

“I’ve done a fair share of cooking…back in the day,” Steve replied, smiling slightly.

“Good, because Thor hasn’t got a clue.” Tasha turned around and made her way to the door. “Tony and I are stepping out to scout the perimeter and make sure the street’s clear.”

So…the burly man’s name was…Thor?

Steve made his way over to the kitchen and found Thor there. The apron the man was wearing seemed to be two-sizes-too-small and uncomfortably hugged his body. He was also hunched over a bit and seemed to take up the entire kitchen space. “Need a hand?” Steve asked and Thor turned to grin at him.

“Your help is much appreciated!”

Steve returned the grin and plucked an apron from a wall hook near the door and tied it about himself. “What’s cooking?”

Thor hesitated. “Noodles,” he replied sheepishly.

He noticed a pot of water coming to a boil on the gas stove. “Okay, have we got anything to go with the noodles?” he asked hopefully.

“Vegetables and sausages. The sort that come in cans.”

“Save the vegetables. Let’s work with those sausages.”

And so the two set to work, boiling the noodles and opening cans of processed meat. The question had been burning Steve and he decided to finally ask. “Your name’s…Thor, right?”

“Aye,” Thor replied. “It is short for Thormund.”

Steve chuckled. “Got it. But you go by Thor.”

“The Norse god of thunder,” Thor replied, stirring the boiling pot of noodles.


	3. Chapter 3

When four plates were set neatly at the kitchen table, Steve took a step back to admire his work. It was a sparse meal of noodles topped with sliced sausages. But, it was better than anything he had eaten in a while. “How long until they get back?” Steve asked, turning to Thor who had just finished cleaning up and hanging his apron on the hook.

“It would depend on how many creatures need to be slain,” the giant man replied.

“Are there usually many?” Steve asked, raising a brow. The area had seemed quiet enough when they arrived.

“It would please me to say no,” Thor began, “But, it would seem that their numbers grow by the day.”

Steve recognized the man’s worry and decided to change the subject. “So how do you all have enough water and gas to boil your food?”

“It is lucky that Natasha’s stove works with gas as opposed to electricity. Gas is simple to scavenge. The water is more difficult. There is a stream in the woods that used to run fresh. Now, the water is murky.” His expression became stony and he stopped talking.

Steve changed the subject once more. “So, what’s home like?” he asked, straightening some of the silverware idly. “Doesn’t seem like you’re from around here.”

“Home has sprawling fields. Small villages. That sort. I left behind my mother and father. And brother.”

“I’m sorry,” Steve offered.

Thor smiled at him, but his eyes were frosted over with tears. “Why?”

Steve wasn’t sure how to answer. “Well-I just-Do you think they’re okay?”  
The large man let out a throaty laugh. “Naturally!”

“When’s the last time you talked to them?” Steve asked casually.

Thor paused for a moment, “Before the dead began to walk.” He moved into the dining room and seemed to examine the plates and silverware as if to make sure everything were in its place. But, Steve could tell he was just looking for something to divert his attention. “They are quite strong. My father ruled our house like a king. Every day of his life was spent working. Back-breaking work. My mother cared for my brother and I. After I ventured to the states, he ran off.” Thor looked down at his large hands.

“Why’d he do that?” Steve asked, out of pure curiosity.

Thor chuckled humorlessly. “He discovered the truth about his birth.” He looked up to see Steve’s confused expression. “My brother was adopted.”

“Oh,” Steve wasn’t sure of what to say.

“There were many imagined wrongs he had created by the time I had left the house. It seemed that any angry word my father had spoken to him was a result of him not being my father’s son. My mother was heart broken when he left.”

“I’m sure they’re all doing just fine,” Steve assured him. And he believed it. Thor believed it as well. He had to. Because there was nothing else for him. Nothing aside from hope.

“I received a letter just days before the outbreak.” A smile spread across Thor’s lips. “It was from my brother. He said he was considering returning home. Considering making amends.” The man raised a hand to his eye to rub away tears. “My only hope is that he returned before the worst of things.”

“We don’t know what’s happening overseas,” Steve pointed out. “They could be doing just fine. Maybe it’s just an isolated incident.”

Their discussion was interrupted by a knock at the kitchen door. Thor gave Steve a grateful smile before moving to open the door. He had to lift a heavy wooden plank that laid across the entrance first before unbolting the door and letting their friends in.

Tony and Natasha both seemed to be exhausted. They dragged themselves over to the table and plopped down in front of their food. “Tasty,” Tony remarked hollowly.

Tasha glared at him before looking between Thor and Steve, “Thank you for the meal.”

Thor took a seat and Steve followed suit, sitting beside Natasha and directly across from Tony who was now prodding his food with a fork.

“Nice touch with the Vienna sausages. Reminds me of camp.” Steve lowered his head to look at his hands, clasped in his lap. “What-what are you doing?”

He looked up to see the other three looking at him. Thor was already digging into his food. There was a flash of color across Steve’s cheeks. “Just saying grace is all.”

Natasha slid her hand, palm upward, toward him over the table. He glanced between her hand and her face and she nodded in encouragement. He slowly took her hand and she reached across the table to grab Thor’s offered hand. Steve slid his hand toward Tony and noticed Thor doing the same. “Nah, not my style,” Tony replied.

“It won’t kill you,” Tasha retorted.

“Well, actually-“

“Tony,” Tasha glowered at him.

There was a short period of resistance where Tony weighed his options in his head before he reached over to take Steve’s hand with a mumbled “Fine.”

Steve bowed his head once more and suddenly felt very uncomfortable. He wasn’t used to being the one to lead grace. He chewed his lower lip slowly before speaking. “Our heavenly father,” he half expected Tony to interrupt him, but was pleasantly surprised when he remained silent. “Thank you for this food. Thank you for the shelter of this home. Thank you for friends. Both those who are seated here tonight. And, those who may be elsewhere.” He paused and swallowed a lump that was building in his throat. “Please watch over them as you do us. In Jesus’s name, Amen.”

There was a quiet murmuring as Natasha and Thor repeated “Amen”. The four then began to dig into their dinners. At first there was little conversation while everyone was quickly shoveling noodles and meat into their mouths. The only sound to be heard was the scraping of forks against plates and the slurping of noodles.

“So tell us, Steve,” Tony began and Steve looked up to make eye contact with the man. “Where’re you from?”

“Brooklyn,” Steve replied.

Tony raised both brows and heaped some more noodles into his mouth and chewed quickly before talking again, his mouth still full of food, “What did you do before all of this?”

“I was in the military for a bit,” Steve explained, “Then I worked in my grandfather’s mechanic shop.”

“You ever see action?” Tony asked, not even bothering to mask his curiosity.

“I did two tours in Afghanistan.”

“I was in Afghanistan once,” Tony replied.

“Really? Business or pleasure?”

“Bit of both,” Tony chuckled and Steve joined him. It was a stark contrast to the man he had seen earlier that day. He wondered what had caused the sudden change. Natasha probably gave him a stern talking-to, he reasoned. “I was there trying to peddle this new technology I had helped to create,” he continued. “Thought the military could use it and decided to give them a demonstration.”

Steve nodded, “How did they take it?”

“Everything was going great. Until we got fire bombed.” Tony’s cool exterior was suddenly compromised and he looked down into his noodles.

“Where’s your grandfather now?” Natasha asked timidly, anticipating the answer.

“He’s long gone,” Steve explained. “Passed a few years ago. Nearly destroyed my grandmother.”

“What of your parents?” Thor asked.

“They passed when I was very young.”

“I am sorry to hear of that, friend,” Thor replied, looking down at his food as well.

Another uncomfortable silence ensued as everyone finished their dinner. When the plates were empty, Thor collected them and moved to the kitchen to wash them. Steve watched as the man reached under the sink to produce a gallon jug of water. He uncapped the lid and poured a bit into the sink and began scrubbing the plates. “How was the defense today?” he asked from the sink in a voice loud enough for them to hear.

Tasha shrugged, “Nothing we couldn’t handle.”

“I think what Natasha is trying to say is, there were definitely more than yesterday,” Tony added.

“Are you keeping a tally of them?” Natasha raised a brow at him.

“Well-no! But you can eyeball it. A rough estimate, if you will,” Tony replied.  
“But you don’t know for sure,” she said in a tone that put the issue to rest.

But, Tony wasn’t through talking. “Tomorrow Steve can come out with me for morning duty. He can judge how safe the area is. You know, from an outsider’s view of things.”

Natasha opened her mouth to protest, but Thor spoke from the kitchen, “Sounds delightful. He is a soldier after all. He knows how to wield a weapon!”

“Sure,” Steve replied, eyeing Natasha cautiously. “Whatever I can do to pull my weight around here.”

There was a silence as Tony shot a gleeful grin at Tasha who replied with a scowl. “I think it’s time to turn in,” she said, rising to her feet and leaving the room.

“Aye,” Thor said as his mouth widened into a yawn. “Good night, friends.”

“Good night,” Steve replied, rising to his feet. 

“Hold on, I’m going to have a drink before bed. Join me?” Tony offered.

Steve paused, eyeing the man suspiciously. A few hours Tony didn’t want Steve to even be a part of the group and now he was offering up drinks? And so, out of pure curiosity and confusion, Steve agreed.


	4. Chapter 4

Steve looked down at the plastic cup filled with vile-smelling amber liquid. He wasn’t one to drink because his body mass made it so that getting drunk was difficult. Tony took a seat on the loveseat opposite him, a matching plastic cup was gripped in his hand. “Sorry about the cheap glassware,” he said, raising the cup as if to cheer an occasion.

Steve shrugged, “I’m just thankful to have food in my stomach and a roof over my head.”

Tony nodded and threw back the unnamed alcohol in his cup. He winced a bit before wiping his lips on the back of his hand. “Reminds me of my college days.”

Steve chuckled and shrugged, “Wouldn’t know anything about that.” He took a swig of his own drink and allowed the liquid to slowly crawl down his throat. There was a brief moment of silence before Steve spoke again. “What did you want to talk about?”

“What do you mean?” Tony replied, raising his brows in a mock display of shock.

“Less than twelve hours ago you didn’t want me tagging along with the group, now suddenly we’re sitting down and having drinks.”

“Take it as an apology. I’m usually not wired that tightly, but I’ve been through some shit that you would not believe.”

“Try me,” Steve replied polishing off his drink.

Tony snorted, “I’m going to need more than a glass of Scotch for this one.”

“If it’s any condolence, I’ve seen more than I’d like to in these past few months.” There was a brief pause before Tony stood up and made his way over to the kitchen. “What are you doing?” Steve called after him.

He returned with an unmarked glass bottle and poured himself another drink before offering it to Steve. Steve reached out and accepted the offering, pouring himself a small serving of the harsh liquid.

“You said you lost a friend,” Tony began.

“Yeah,” Steve replied.

“Anyone else? Girlfriend? Boyfriend?”

Steve narrowed his eyes. Is this guy…hitting on me? He took another swig of his drink. “My grandmother. She wasn’t doing too well before it all started. And…well…it’s times like these when only the strong survive.”

“I’m sorry,” Tony replied with a sincerity that had Steve reeling. What’s with this guy? He wondered. It’s like I can’t know what to expect…

“I lost-“ Tony began before gulping down another glass. “Well, I haven’t found him yet. He’s gotta be out there. Somewhere.”

“Who?”

“My partner.” Tony wasn’t making eye contact with Steve now. His eyes were fixed on the floor. “We’ve been together since college. I’m an engineer. He’s a medical researcher.”

“Where is he now?” Steve asked.

“I wish I knew,” Tony laughed humorlessly as he reached for the bottle to pour himself another drink. “When all this happened he left for the CDC. He promised he’d be back…but the way things were…I couldn’t sit and wait around.”

“I’m so sorry,” Steve replied.

“That’s why it’s hard,” Tony spoke quickly despite his words beginning to slur. “For me to say this. But we’re going to have to leave here soon. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Natasha’s not too excited about moving on. She’s ready to wait here forever.”

“What’s she waiting for?” Steve pondered aloud.

“Not what. Who. Clint. From what I gathered a fiancé. Met at work or something. He went out for supplies pretty early on and never came back. She thinks that one day he’ll knock at that door.” He gestured dramatically to the front door.

“And you don’t think there’s hope?” Steve asked, a misplaced anger boiled inside of him.

“Of course there’s hope. There’s always hope. But hope’s not going to help us survive. Things aren’t like they used to be.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Steve replied coldly.

Tony waved him off and the act of dismissal left Steve’s blood boiling. “You’ll see how bad it is out there tomorrow. You’ll see my side on this one.”

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Rise and shine!” Steve’s eyes slowly opened and he blinked a few times. Light cascaded through the living room windows, blinding him for a moment. He sat up and buried his face in his palms.

“What time is it?” he grumbled.

“Nearly eight in the morning,” Tony’s voice replied, sounding all too chipper for this time of day.

Steve stretched the knots out of his back and frowned at his makeshift bed. The house only had two bedrooms, and both were occupied. This left the unyielding leather couch for Steve. He wasn’t about to complain, though. After weeks of sleeping on the ground, the couch was a tiny glimmer of luxury.

“Got anything to eat?” Steve asked, looking up hopefully.

Tony dug through a satchel he had slung carelessly over his shoulder and produced a silver package. “Pop-tart?”

Steve chuckled, better than nothing. He held out a hand and nodded and Tony opened the package and placed the breakfast pastry in Steve’s large palm. “Thanks.”

“It’s a simple patrol this morning. Just gotta do a lap around the property, check up the street, and poke through the woods a bit.”

“Sounds fine,” Steve replied between bites of the Pop-tart. 

Steve stood and Tony placed a hand on his shoulder, “Steve-“ He looked down at Tony’s hand, flinching slightly at the contact. “I’d just like to apologize for last night. I know you’re still hopeful about finding your friend. For me to go off like that wasn’t right.”

“You’re upset about your loss. I understand,” Steve replied in an even tone, still not looking at Tony’s face.

“Great!” Tony slapped Steve’s shoulder amicably. “Let’s get going then!” He removed something from the satchel and handed it to Steve.

It was a sheathed machete. “Thanks,” Steve replied. Tony removed his own weapon from the satchel. A small, automatic handgun.

“No problem.”


	5. Chapter 5

The air was still, the sunlight was uninterrupted by clouds, and Steve was beginning to feel drowsy. The two had been patrolling for nearly two hours now, and for the most part everything seemed quiet. “I thought you said this place was crawling with the dead.”

Tony sighed. “It’s like when you go to the doctor feeling like you’re going to die, but once you get to the office, everything clears up.”

Steve chuckled, “I’m no doctor.”

“You probably scared them off, or something.”

“Oh yeah,” Steve reached over his shoulder to pull the machete from his backpack. “I’m really menacing with this.”

“Sorry, kiddo. There weren’t enough guns to go around,” Tony replied with a laugh.

“Still, what good’s a machete going to do?”

“You did just fine with that trashcan lid yesterday,” Tony answered, smirking up at him.

Steve turned the blade over and examined it with a faux impressed expression. “We’ll see.”

But as the morning wore on, there didn’t seem to be as many of the dead as Tony had described the day before. There was only the bright sun and deserted street. The two investigated the wooded area behind the house to find nothing but a few rail-thin squirrels running about the brush.

As they trudged through the underbrush, Steve began to think. Perhaps Tony had a reason for wanting to leave the house. Maybe he was trying to rally Steve onto his side and convince the others to leave. But why?

“You alright there?” Tony asked, “Need a break big guy?”

Steve rolled his eyes, “I’m fine. It’s just…too quiet.” He ended the sentence pathetically. His thoughts were only just suspicions, probably just born of the late-morning sun.

Tony craned his neck to glance between the trees. “We can start heading back,” he said quietly. “It’s not as active out here today. It’s a damn shame. I was looking forward to you doing your thing.”

“It’s not my thing,” Steve grimaced.

“Sure it is. Simple. You’re really good at it. What did you say you did before the infection, again? Military?”

“Infection?” Steve was taken aback at the word choice. “That makes it sound like those…people can be cured. But they’re dead…”

Tony merely shrugged in response. “Don’t beat around the bush lieutenant.”

“Captain, actually” Steve mumbled. 

Tony let out a low whistle. “Well I’ll be damned. Didn’t realize I was sassing a high ranking officer.” He lowered his voice and motioned toward his eyes. “I can see it you know. Right here. You’ve seen some shit. It shows.”

“Thanks,” Steve replied flatly. 

“No, no,” Tony quickly back-peddled. “I didn’t mean it in a bad way.”

“What other way is there?” Tony was so up and down, it made it hard for Steve to make a proper judgment of him. One minute, Steve was sure he was a nice guy, and the next he felt like throwing a fist at his face. Though, he never would. Probably.

“You’re a survivor. You’ve survived before, and you’ll do it again.”

The answer took Steve by surprise, but he wasn’t sure about how he felt about it. It left his stomach feeling coiled and acidic. “Are we done here?” He asked, turning his attention to the empty trees.

There was a pause, and Steve swore he could feel Tony’s gaze burning into him. “Yeah, we’re done here.” Without saying anything more, he strode off in the direction they came. Steve followed and the two did not exchange any more words as they clambered over roots and crunched through the dead leaves.

Their silence continued as they made their way back to the house. The street was just as quiet as it was when they first left. But, as they neared the house, it was apparent that something was amiss. The front yard seemed undisturbed, but the wooden gate leading to the backyard was ajar. 

Steve nodded toward the gate. “We leave that open when we left?” he asked quietly.

Tony frowned. “No. Rule 32 of living with the group, always close the gate.”

“I didn’t realize there were that many rules for living with the group,” Steve replied, unsheathing his machete and edging toward the gate. Behind him he heard Tony’s gun cock.

“Yeah, I’m working on getting them all printed out in a manual.”

The two stopped talking as they reached the gate. Steve pushed it further open with the toe of his boot and cringed as the unoiled hinges creaked loudly. So much for a stealthy approach. They crept along the edge of the house, listening for signs of the dead, or perhaps a human assailant. As Steve peered around the corner of the house into the backyard, his breath caught in his throat. There were five of the dead pressing themselves up against the back door.

“Five corpses. Five bullets,” Tony whispered.

Steve shook his head, “Who knows how many more could be in earshot. We don’t need to be drawing a hoard into our backyard.”

“You worry too much,” Tony replied, sliding out from their position of cover and firing five rounds at the hoard. Steve exhaled slowly as he stood to assess the damage. The five bodies were arranged in a neat, little pile. “Now all that’s left is to get rid of them.” He strode over to the bodies and reached down to grab two wire-thin wrists.

Steve made his way over to help him.

“You said our.” Tony said in a matter of fact tone as he dragged a corpse to the gate.

“What?” Steve replied, dragging another behind him.

“You said our backyard.”

“I guess I did,” Steve replied, not really seeing the significance. 

“You’re already starting to consider this house a home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 03.08.15: Edited this chapter for content because I realized the dialogue was repeating information already given. Sorry about that, I have an overall goal when I write chapters/fics but I write each installment at a time and when too much time passes between updates I sometimes forget what I've covered in previous chapters.


	6. Chapter 6

“So…did nobody notice the small herd of zombies?” Tony’s voice seemed to echo through the house as he and Steve re-entered through the back door.

“We were out numbered and we didn’t know if there were more out there.” Natasha’s voice answered as she strode downstairs, a rifle slung over her shoulder. “Try and keep your voice down.”

Tony moved through the small kitchen to meet her in the foyer. “We need to get out of here.”

“You keep saying that, Tony, but I don’t see a problem. This house can hold off more than a few of those things. We’ve seen that today. What’s the problem?”

“How many more?” Tony asked and Natasha fell silent. “How many more zombies is it going to take for you to realize that we need to move?”

“Why are you so ready to move? Got ants in your pants?” Natasha countered.

“Great. Yeah, let’s revert to grade school arguments while we’re all in potential danger.”

“Let’s put it to a vote,” Steve suggested.

“Oh, please. It’ll come up tied,” Natasha rolled her eyes. “There’s four of us. You can’t a vote with an even number!”

“Not with that attitude,” Tony retorted. “Come on. Hands up if you think we need to leave.” His hand shot up and he looked between the other two. “Well?”

“Where’s Thor?” Steve asked, ignoring Tony’s behavior.

Natasha glanced around the two men to get a better look into the empty kitchen. “He should be awake already.” She moved to stand at the foot of the stairs and called up to the second floor. “Thor?”

Tony suddenly snapped out of his rant to focus at the issue at hand. “You let him walk out of here?” He charged past Tasha and stomped up the stairs. “Thor, I swear to God if you’re up there twiddling your thumbs or knitting a sweater or whatever it is you do, I’m gonna-“ There was the sound of a door slamming open and then silence.

“Tony?” Steve called up, moving to stand next to Tasha at the foot of the stairs.

“I’m gonna kill that lump of useless meat!” 

“Tony keep your voice down!” Tasha replied, climbing the stairs with Steve following close behind.

Tony emerged from Thor’s room as the two reached the top of the stairs. “That son of a bitch, can you believe this?” He brandished a white slip of paper.

“Hey! Breathe, Tony. Just breathe. What is it?” Steve squinted at the words messily scrawled on the slip.

“A note,” he replied, lifting the paper to his face and reading it aloud in a mocking impression of Thor’s baritone voice. “Friends. I have stepped out to partake in errand running. If I do not return by one in the afternoon it will mean that I have met my fate. Sincerely, Thor.”

“Surprisingly casual,” Tasha remarked, folding her arms over her chest. “Still, I don’t understand why you’re making a fuss.”

Tony sputtered for a moment, trying to find the right words. “He left the gate open.” Was what he settled on.

“He left the gate open,” Tasha repeated.

“Yeah! That kind of disregard for group safety coupled with this sorry excuse. I mean- what kind of errands is this guy doing during a frickin’ apocalypse?!”

“How do you know he left the gate open?” Steve replied, his eyebrows coming together to form a look that was caught somewhere between suspicion and pensiveness.

“Who else could it be?” Tony replied as though his conclusions were blatantly obvious.

“He wasn’t the only one to leave the house today,” Steve reminded him.

“He all but snuck out!” Tony was grasping for threads now. 

“You’re jumping to conclusions and the guy’s not even here!” Natasha’s voice was loud enough to shock him into silence and she cleared her throat. “Now- let’s just go back downstairs and clear our heads,” she glared in Tony’s direction. She turned to Steve with a more neutral expression. “How do you feel about taking first watch?”

“Not sure what that entails, but sure,” Steve replied with a shrug.

Natasha strode past him to open a wooden door behind him to reveal a small study. Light filtered in through large windows on two of the walls and Steve stepped inside. “You’ve just got to keep an eye out for zombies on either side of us. One or two of them’s not a big deal. What we have to worry about is an entire herd coming for us.” Natasha explained from the doorway. She nodded to a bay window at the end of the hall. “Probably check back that way too every once in a while.”

“Got it,” Steve replied, making his way over to a chair propped up in the corner and set it in front of one of the windows. He heard Natasha and Tony retreat back downstairs as he peered out into the quiet street below. As he sat his mind was free to wander. Tony’s over dramatic behavior was odd, and Steve wondered if it was out of character. 

As the shadows grew longer under the trees and cars, Steve stood and stretched. He made his way down the hall to peer out the bay window and gazed out. The sun was sitting low over the treetops of the nearby forest. It might have been pretty sight, if the circumstances were different. 

After admiring the view for a few moments, he made his way back to the study just as Tony was coming up the stairs. In one hand he was carrying what appeared to be a sandwich and in the other a bottle of soda. “Thought you’d be hungry,” Tony said, not quite meeting Steve’s gaze.

Steve wasn’t quite sure what to make of it, but he accepted the offering. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it. How’s the look out coming?”

Steve made a noncommittal gesture. “Lots of trees. Some abandoned cars. The usual excitement.”

Tony laughed quietly and poked his head through the study door. “I used to get stuck with morning look out,” he commented. “Before you showed up.”  
“Guess I’m the bottom of the totem pole now,” Steve chuckled as he took a bite of the sandwich. “Peanut butter and jelly,” he commented.

“An American classic,” Tony grinned, “You’re welcome.” 

Steve chuckled and made his way back into the study and heard Tony following behind. Steve leaned against the wall beside the window and scanned the empty street for any sign of Thor. Tony took a seat and rested his elbows on his knees to cradle his chin in his palm. They shared a silence for a few minutes.

“That outburst earlier was-“ Tony began unsurely. 

“Ridiculous?” Steve suggested. “Uncalled for?”

“I was going to say a little over the top, maybe?” Tony rubbed his forehead with his right hand. “But I guess yours works better.”

“Is this an apology?” Steve raised a brow in genuine surprise. Tony made a noise in the back of his throat and Steve found himself smiling. “You didn’t wrong me or anything. Why are you apologizing?”

“I don’t want you to think I’m like that. Because I’m not.” Steve turned around to look at Tony, but he was watching the shadows at his feet. He didn’t know how to reply. Tony got to his feet and he wanted to say something, but his words were failing. “Enjoy the food.” He left Steve standing by the window.

Steve watched his retreating form and turned to face the window just in time to catch a glimpse of the tall form of Thor sauntering down the road. “Hey!” he called through the open door. “Thor’s coming back!” 

“Seriously?” Tony’s voice carried from downstairs. Steve exited the study and made his way downstairs as Tony was making his way for the door.

“Hold it,” Natasha said authoritatively. She was making her way out of the kitchen. “Just wait.”

“Wait for what?” Tony replied. “We’re going to grill him the minute he gets in here.”

“Well just wait for him to get in here then,” Tasha replied, glaring at him. “We’re in no rush.”

Thor’s shadow cast through the etched glass window next to the door and there was the clinking sound of keys. A moment later the lock clicked and he strode through the door looking worn and exhausted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my boyfriend and my friend for inspiring me to continue writing even though I wasn't exactly motivated. Don't thank me for updating, thank them.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That silly gate nonsense plot gets resolved thank the maker

Tony’s arms were folded across his chest and he wore the expression and demeanor of a parent catching their teenager sneaking back into the house after curfew. “Where have you been?”

 

“Relax, Anthony,” Thor furrowed his brow and shut the door behind him, bolting it carefully. “Did you not receive my note?”

 

“We did,” Tony replied sharply. “And it did not answer my question, so I thought, _hey I’ll go to the source._ So I’ll ask again, where have you been?”

 

“I went into town once more,” Thor replied, shrugging out of his coat.

 

“We had enough supplies, Thor,” Natasha chimed in. “You didn’t have to do that.”

 

“’Twas not supplies I sought.” Thor’s expression was becoming more and more pained as he spoke.

 

“Hey, are you okay?” Steve was examining Thor, but he didn’t seem to show signs of injury. Not on the outside, at least.

 

“Aye.” Thor ran a hand through his hair. “I wish to rest.”

 

“Not until you fess up!” Tony snapped. “Where were you?”

 

“If it is of _such_ importance to you, _Anthony,_ I was attempting to get in contact with my family!”

 

Natasha raised a brow, “I thought your family’s overseas.”

 

“Aye. And I attempted to contact them.”

 

“How?” Natasha replied. She was less confrontational than Tony. Her tone was soft, but her mouth formed a taught line.

 

“While we were returning to the house, a pay phone at the side of the road caught my attention.”

 

Natasha opened her mouth to speak, but Tony spoke first. “You thought a _payphone_ was going to work?” He laughed humorlessly. “Amazing. You do realize that the power’s out _everywhere_ right? Power outage equals no telephone service, which means no calling up dear ole mama and papa to have a nice chat-“

 

“Are you through?” Steve loudly spoke over him and Tony’s mouth snapped shut into a firm frown.

 

“He risked the safety of the group,” Tony was directing his frustration at Steve now. “I’m sorry for caring about the well-being of the group.”

 

“He didn’t leave the gate open, Tony.”

 

“Oh yeah? How do you figure?”

 

Natasha turned to Thor, “Do you have the key to the gate’s padlock on you?”

 

“N-No,” Thor replied, patting his pants pockets and sticking his large hands into his coat pockets. “I do not. It was not on the hook when I took leave, so I took the key to the front instead.”

 

Steve turned to face Tony who suddenly looked as though he was trying to blend in with the wallpaper behind him. “Hmm. Seems Thor _wasn’t_ the one who left the gate open.”

 

Natasha visibly rolled her eyes and turned to leave the room. “Okay, well I’m going to fix something to eat. Now that all _that’s_ been settled.”

 

“I shall assist!” Thor said, hanging the keys to the up on the hooks next to the door. He shuffled past Tony and Steve to follow her into the kitchen.

 

“Safety of the group, huh?” Steve asked, rounding on Tony.

 

Tony exhaled deeply. “I fucked up, okay? Not the first time, won’t be the last. Can we drop it?”

 

“You nearly started a witch hunt today.”

 

“So I _did_ have you on my side.” Tony grinned cheekily.

 

“No more games. This isn’t _funny,_ Tony. You can’t just play with the group like that.”

 

“Look,” Tony’s voice was surprisingly serious. In fact, this could possibly be the most genuine Steve had seen him so far. “I know you probably won’t believe it, but I wasn’t just trying to cover my own ass back there.”

 

Steve shook his head. “Save it. I’m gonna go help them fix some food.” He strode past Tony to the kitchen.

 

 

Their meal was uncomfortably quiet. Thor refused to look up from his plate of beans and corn. Natasha was mostly focusing on her meal, but occasionally she would look up to glare across the table at Tony. Although Steve was sitting directly next to Tony, he made it a point to avoid eye contact with the man.

 

Before everyone else was finished with their meals, Tony stood up, his chair scraping along the wood floor. “Well this has truly been a lovely evening, but unfortunately it’s my bed time.” With that he strode from the room, slamming the door behind him.

 

Tasha stood in her place and reached over for his plate. “Guess we’re getting seconds tonight, boys.”

 

She emptied half of Tony’s plate onto Thor’s and half of it onto Steve’s. “I don’t need that much if you’re still hungry.”

 

She shook her head. “I’ve made do with less before. I’ll be fine. Eat up. Guys like you probably need all the protein and calories you can get.”

 

Steve laughed and thanked her and Thor gave her a little nod. She finished her portion quickly before returning the plate to the sink. “Night, fellas. See you in the morning.”

 

There was a silence after she left. The only sound was Thor’s silverware sliding across his plate as he played idly with his food.

 

“Did it work?” Steve asked after a while.

 

Thor looked up at him. His expression was of thinly veiled pain. “Of course it did not.”

 

“I’m sorry to hear it,” Steve replied, looking down at his food.

 

“As am I.” There was another silence before Thor spoke again. “The others’ reaction is why I did not want to share my intentions in the first place.”

 

“You mean the scolding?”

 

“Aye. I expected they would not understand the hope I carry in my heart.”

 

“I admire you,” Steve said. His mouth curled upward slightly in an expression of compassion. “And sure, Tony’s not gonna understand.” Steve’s lips fell into frown. “That guy’s only after his own interests I’m guessing. But, you’ve got an entire family you’re worried about, and honestly if I had the same hope as you, I’d be out there doing the same.”

 

“I put the group in danger.”

 

“Don’t listen to Tony. None of us were endangered by what you did today. Only person that could have gotten hurt was you. And, I’m in no position to ask you of anything, but I’d like for you to be a little more concerned about that next time. Hope is good, but seeing this thing to the end’s going to be a hell of a lot better.”

 

“What if there is no end,” Thor replied, blankly watching the candle at the center of the table flicker feebly.

 

“Then see it out as far as you can. This life’s the only thing we got. Wasting it’s never the right choice.”

 

Thor nodded, “Thank you for the words of advice, Steven.”

 

“Don’t mention it,” Steve replied as he stood and lifted his plate. “Are you finished with that,” he gestured to Thor’s portion.

 

“No, I will sit up for a bit longer.”

 

“Okay. See you in the morning.”

 

 

Steve laid out on the sofa, one leg casually thrown over the back and the other drooping over the side. He looked up at the darkened ceiling. The total darkness was something he could not get used to. A city kid like him was used to bright lights filtering in through the windows at all times. But now there was only the moon to keep him company in the hours between lying down and falling asleep.

 

His muscles dully ached from the busy day he had. He wanted to roll over and fall asleep, but his mind wouldn’t allow it. It was busy deconstructing the events of the day, focusing in on little details, and painting a larger picture.

 

_I wasn’t just trying to cover my own ass back there._

_Just what someone who’s trying to cover his own ass would say,_ Steve thought bitterly as he rolled over to face the upholstery. _Why do I care?_ He realized suddenly. Tony was basically a stranger. Why _would_ he care about what he thinks? But, why was Tony so concerned about what Steve thought of him.

 

He curled his limbs up toward his chest in a feeble attempt to fit on the couch.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you like dream sequences because guess what's going to be happening

_The sun was barely able to pierce through the canopy of leaves that afternoon. Bucky and Steve attempted to move quietly through the lush undergrowth. Twigs snapped and leaves crunched beneath their feet. Bucky was a few paces ahead of Steve, his rifle swung carelessly over his shoulder. Steve swatted a rogue mosquito from the air in front of his face. “There’s nothing out here, Buck. We can’t hunt if there isn’t any game.”_

_“Not with that attitude,” Bucky replied, grinning over his shoulder._

_“We should just go back. I know the rest of camp’ll be mad about canned beans again for dinner again but-“_

_“We’ll find something, don’t worry about it.” Bucky’s eyes were scanning the forest for movement._

_Steve had gone camping a handful of times during his time in Boy Scouts. He hadn’t liked it much. His childhood asthma made the experience a bit more difficult, especially in the spring time when the air was full of pollen. He remembered the sounds the woods would make. The calls of birds, the rustling of leaves, all of it. But this afternoon, the forest was eerily quiet. The world in general was eerily quiet these days._

_Bucky stopped suddenly and Steve came to a jarring halt in order to avoid running into his back. “Wha-“_

_Bucky shushed him quickly. He nodded toward a small clearing a few feet ahead of them. A deer stood in the middle of it, grazing on a patch of yellowing grass._

_“Wanna take bets on who can hit that one?” Bucky asked, hoisting the rifle from his shoulder._

_Steve carefully crept to stand at Bucky’s side. A twig snapped beneath his foot and he froze. The deer’s posture stiffened and it glanced nervously about the clearing._

_“Way to go, Rogers.” Bucky chuckled softly._

_Steve nudged his friend’s arm. “Don’t mess this up. We can’t go back empty handed.”_

_Bucky rolled his eyes and lifted his rifle into the ready position. Steve did the same. “So, what are we betting for?” Bucky whispered._

_“You came up with the idea. You gotta come up with the odds.”_

_“Loser has to carry this thing back to camp.”_

_Steve chuckled, “You got yourself a deal.”_

_“Alright, shoot on three,” Bucky said as he crouched down to get into position. He peered down the scope at the innocent creature who had resumed grazing. “One. Two. Three.”_

_The quiet of the forest was pierced by the sounds of their rifles. Bucky’s bullet was the one to pierce through the deer’s skull. It fell where it stood into a little blood-stained brown lump on the forest floor._

_Steve stood and let out a laugh before beginning to trek over to the carcass. He suddenly felt Bucky’s arm on his shoulder and he turned around wearing a confused expression. Bucky put a finger from his free hand up to his lips to signal Steve to be quiet. He nodded toward the clearing and Steve followed his gaze._

_One of the dead was limping into view from between a pair of trees. Its dark matted hair hung down past its shoulders and it’s tattered shirt and jeans hung limply from its thin frame. It was tottering right toward the deer’s corpse._

_Steve began creeping toward the clearing._

_“What are you doing?” Bucky hissed._

_“We’re not eating beans again.”_

_“You’re insane.” But Steve heard Bucky following him closely. The two approached the edge of the clearing and Steve shrugged his pack from his shoulders. From it, he produced a hatchet._

_“Cover me,” he whispered as he crept into the open. The walking corpse had its blank gaze fixed on the deer and didn’t notice as Steve edged toward it. The hatchet was gripped in his dominant hand, his rifle strung over his shoulder. He glanced over to see Bucky watching his movements through the scope of his rifle. He made a hand motion at Steve. One that said “What are you waiting for?! Eyes on the prize, Rogers.”_

_Steve turned back to the corpse who was steadily making its way toward the dead deer. He raised his hatchet and brought it down with a sickening crack. The blade was buried in the dead’s skull and its mouth opened to let out a wheeze. Steve’s nose crinkled as dark blood oozed from its head wound. He wrenched the hatchet from the dead’s skull and covered his mouth with his free hand. The stench of rotting meat and the acidic sting of blood was almost overpowering._

_He struck again and the corpse fell to the ground in a numb heap at his feet. Steve plucked the hatchet from the creatures skull and shook the extra blood from the blade._

_“STEVE!”_

_Steve turned quickly to see Bucky’s startled expression between the trees._

_“STEVE!” A shot rang out._

Steve’s eyes snapped open and blinked a few times to clear the drowsiness from his mind. The weak sunlight filtering into the living room was stinging his eyes. He blinked again and sat up. He shivered a bit and realized the back of his shirt was drenched with sweat.

 

“Hey, you okay?” He glanced up at Natasha’s worried expression.

 

“Fine,” he replied, burying his face in his hands. “What’s going on.”

 

“It’s time for morning patrol. But if you’re not up for it I can just ask-“

 

Steve shook his head, “No, no. Just let me get changed real quick. I’ll be ready in ten.”

 

 

Patrolling with Natasha was a different experience than patrolling with Tony. Tony sauntered around rather carelessly while Natasha examined her surroundings with an almost military-grade scrutiny.

 

The street had been as quiet as it had been the previous day, but as they made their way into the forest, they ran into a small group of the dead. They made quick work of them, Natasha wielding a machete while Steve worked with an axe. She had the ability to swerve between her attackers and pinpoint exactly where their points of weakness were.

 

Steve made a mental note to never cross her.

 

They stood above the pile of absolutely dead corpses. “That’s not good,” Tasha remarked casually.

 

“When Tony and I were out here we didn’t see a single one,” Steve replied.

 

“So where did these friends come from?” She was scanning the trees as if she were anticipating another attack.

 

“No idea.” Steve coughed into his elbow. The stench was starting to become more pronounced.

 

“Well, enough of that.” Natasha stepped over the dead to make her way further into the forest. Steve followed closely behind.

 

“Their numbers are growing,” Steve remarked.

 

“So they are.”

 

“Eventually this area won’t be safe,” Steve continued.

Natasha halted and turned to face him. Her green eyes were fierce and piercing. “Let’s get one thing straight before we move along here. I’m not an idiot. I _know_ the danger of staying. But, I made a promise to someone a while ago, and I plan on keeping it.”

 

“We don’t have to leave right this minute, but we should be ready to move when the time comes.”

 

“You and Tony and Thor can leave if you want to, but I won’t.”

 

“You don’t know if you’re going to have that choice.” Steve’s voice was quiet despite the frustration he was feeling. “You know, I promised someone something too. And I’m trying my damn hardest to keep that promise.”

 

“You mean leaving to find your friend,” Natasha replied coldly. “Do you know if your friend’s still alive?”

 

“I have hope,” Steve said firmly. “And right now that’s the best thing I’ve got.”

 

“But you don’t _know_.”

 

“You can’t be standing there and telling me that I shouldn’t believe when we’re in the _exact_ same situation.” Steve was getting a little irritated with her. “Hope’s the best thing you’ve got too.”

 

“Yeah and if I leave I’m giving it all up!” Steve took an involuntary step back. He hadn’t heard Natasha raise her voice yet, and admittedly after seeing her do damage on some of the dead, he was feeling a little scared. “I _promised_ him I would wait for him. No matter what. I’d be at the house and he’d know where to find me! The difference between you and me is that you need to get somewhere to be with your _friend_. I _don’t!_ I need to stay right here in this Goddamn house because one day he might come limping up the drive and knock on the door!” Her eyes were welling up with tears. Steve reached out to touch her shoulder and she glared at him. “Don’t touch me.”

 

“I’m sorry,” he offered weakly. “It was really none of my business.”

 

“Let’s just get back to this,” she said, turning to make her way through the dense underbrush.

 

Steve followed and they finished their patrol in silence.


	9. Chapter 9

_“Good thing I had my eyes open, huh.” Bucky adjusted his grip on the dead deer’s legs._

_Steve chuckled and glanced back at his best friend, “I’m always lucky to have you looking out for me.”_

_They strode out of the forest and into the campsite. “Hey! You guys found something!” A voice greeted them. They looked over to see Peter Parker strolling over toward them. His camera, dangling around his neck by a leather strap, bounced against his chest as he moved._

_“Yup,” Bucky grinned at him. “No beans for us tonight!”_

_“Nice!” Peter poised his camera to take a picture. “May I?”_

_“You want a photograph of this guy?” Steve laughed, jerking his head back to gesture to Bucky._

_Peter chuckled. “No, not really. I mean- you two can be in it too if you want, I guess. It’s just a memory y’know? Who knows when we’ll have another fresh meal.”_

_Steve’s expression softened as he remembered just how young Peter was. Too young to be dealing with this shit, that’s for sure. “Alright, Peter.”_

_Peter got up close to the deer and his camera flashed. A few moments later it spit out a blank polaroid and he took it between his fingers and began fanning the air with it as it developed. “Thanks!” He smiled at the two and nodded as he scurried off._

_“Little odd, but I’m not one to judge,” a gruff voice spoke as a squat, muscular man made his way over to them._

_“Don’t be an ass, Logan,” Bucky replied. “Where do you want this guy?” He nodded to the corpse in his grasp._

_“Move ‘im over by the fire.” Logan reached into his jacket and produced a pack of cigarettes and lit one with a match. “We’re having **real** meat tonight, everyone! All hands on deck!”_

_A couple of heads popped out of the multicolored tents that were pitched in a circle around a smaller circle of portable lawn chairs around a campfire. “Logan, this better not be one of your jokes,” Ororo said, climbing to her feet and stretching. “It was a long night keeping an out for the dead and I’m not in the mood-“ Her expression changed into one of shock as she watched Steve and Bucky haul the deer carcass over to the middle of camp._

_“Woah!” Pietro and his sister Wanda joined the group. She stood behind him, her arms folded over her chest, but she looked somewhat pleased to see the deer. “We’ll grab some firewood. Gotta get this thing cooking, fast.” The two strode off to collect wood._

_What followed was a flurry of shouted directions and hasty preparations. The fire got built to a roaring intensity. The deer was gutted and cut before being put over the fire. Someone had offered up their somewhat rusted cast-iron pan. Another had offered up the last of their salt and pepper. It wasn’t going to be a five-star meal, but the sound of the meat sputtering over the flame and the aroma it created was enough to make Steve’s mouth water. Another generous soul donated a bottle of hooch. The real strong stuff that burned your throat and made your eyes water._

_They sat around the campfire that night laughing, feasting, and drinking. Slowly everyone began to retire. First it was Logan, who liked to keep to himself anyway. Then Ororo who bid everyone good night before crawling back into her tent to resume the sleeping she had started earlier. Wanda was next, breaking her silence only too say good night. She was followed by Pietro._

_Peter sat up with Bucky and Steve for a while and the three of them found themselves talking about the times before the dead started walking. It was a rare occurrence. Understandably. Nobody liked to be reminded of what they had lost. But, Peter wasn’t very good at holding his liquor, and he was a sentimental drunk. Bucky and Steve weren’t going to dampen his spirits. Not tonight. So they let him talk. Peter shared about his dreams of going to college. It broke Steve’s heart to hear him talk about it with bright, excited eyes and exaggerated hand gestures._

_Finally, Peter got tuckered out and said his ‘goodnight’ and strolled over to his tent. “I feel for the kid,” Bucky said, looking into the fire and taking a shallow swig of hooch. He grimaced and set the bottle down at his feet._

_“You and me both.”_

_“You know,” Bucky began, taking his eyes off the fire to look at Steve, “he reminds me of someone I know.”_

_Steve raised a brow, “Oh yeah, who’s that?”_

_Bucky shrugged a bit and looked back to the flames, “You used to have dreams too, y’know.”_

_“Yeah, moving up ranks-“_

_“No, I don’t mean the military,” Bucky cut him off and Steve looked at him. His mouth was formed into a neat little line and his eyes twinkled in the flickering light of the fire. “You used to want to be an artist, Steve. I remember. Wasn’t the only thing you were good at, either. You had a real future.”_

_“Yeah, and none of that was practical,” Steve explained._

_“That wasn’t it.”_

_“And you’re the expert?” Steve laughed humorlessly. Bucky was right, but like hell if he would ever admit it._

_“Look, it wasn’t ‘til I got forced into it that you even cared about the military. You **hated** the war for Christ sake.”_

_Steve reached for the bottle of hooch and Bucky reached out to grab his wrist. He finally looked up into Bucky’s face to see a pained expression. Steve exhaled and licked his lips. “Truth is-“_

_“Hey!” a gruff voice interrupted them and they turned to see Logan’s stout frame illuminated by the dying fire. “Jus’ came back for my booze. Can’t sleep right.”_

_“Sure, sure,” Steve replied, breaking out of Bucky’s grasp and gripping the neck of the bottle. He handed it over to Logan who raised the bottle to them and turned to stroll back to his tent._

_“I’m going to bed,” Bucky stood and started kicking dirt onto the fire to put it out._

            Steve’s eyes snapped open and he rolled over. His heart was racing as he stood up to look about the room. Some form of movement had awaken him, and his eyes struggled to adjust to the darkness.

            “Woah! Sorry.” He followed the voice to the window where the moonlight half illuminated a shadow.

            “Tony?” Steve mumbled, rubbing his eyes fiercely to wake himself up and help him see a bit better. “What time is it?”

            “Late as hell. I dunno.”

            “And what are you doing down here?” Steve asked, getting to his feet and stretching his arms up toward the ceiling. There was a devilish cramp twisting in his lower back.

            “I was up in the study watching the street. Insomnia’s a pain in the ass y’know.”

            “And you saw something?” Steve’s chest tightened and he moved over toward the window to get a view of the street.

            “Not sure. That’s why I came down here. Get a better look.” Tony was standing in front of the window. He was squinting through the sheer curtain with his arms folded over his chest. The two gazed out of the window at the moon-baked street. It was still as far as Steve could tell. “Probably just my imagination,” Tony started.

            “Hold on,” Steve whispered, cutting Tony off. He nodded toward a shifting shadow snaking in between two parked cars.

            “Shit,” Tony breathed. “Is it one of those things?”

            “Might be an animal?” Steve’s tone was hopeful, but the shadow made its way into the open. Its movements were shaky and it stumbled a bit. It was far too tall to be an animal and the way it moved was somewhat humanlike.

            “I’m sorry, Steve. I’m not an expert but that’s no animal I’ve ever seen.” Tony glanced at him.

            Steve exhaled and blinked a few times before meeting Tony’s gaze. “Nothing we can do about it now. Just have to be careful.”

            Tony nodded and the two were quiet for a moment before Tony spoke. “You comfortable down here?”

            Steve shrugged, “I guess. After the dead started walking, I’ve been spending my time sleeping in a tent so a couch is an improvement I guess.”

            “How’d you like another upgrade?”

            “What do you mean?” Steve asked.

            “Well, I haven’t been sleeping well lately, so my bed’s free.”

            “Couch is fine.”

            “You haven’t been looking fine. Well not in the morning anyway.” Tony chuckled.

            Steve shook his head. _This guy’s unbelievable._ “I’m completely okay. I haven’t been sleeping well but the end of the world’ll do that to you.”

            “Nightmares?” Tony asked with an arched brow.

            “Memories.”

            “What’s the difference, right?”

            Steve laughed humorlessly and looked out the window to watch the unknown shadow stumble off toward the forest. “Right.”

            “Well, if you change your mind,” Tony said turning to leave the room, “You know where to find me.”

            Steve watched him lumber off and he made his way over to the couch to collapse on it. He pulled the blanket up to his chin and closed his eyes.

 

 

_The small tent smelled vaguely of alcohol as Steve curled up in his sleeping bag. In the back of his hooch clouded mind he wondered who was patrolling the campsite, but for now he was exhausted. The moonlight was illuminating the fabric of the tent giving off a blue-green glow inside. He could hear Bucky breathing next to him as he rolled over to face the opposite direction._

_His eyes were already closed when he felt a warmth at his back and an arm snaked around his waist. He turned slightly and felt Bucky’s face bury into the place where his neck met his back. “You okay, Bucky?” he asked quietly._

_Bucky nodded into Steve’s back and Steve let out a breath. “We used to do this all the time as kids.”_

_“That’s cus your parents were too cheap to fix the damn heater in your room.”_

_“You didn’t have to stay over.”_

_“As if my place had heat either.” Steve chuckled. “My room was always cold in the winter time. I stayed over at your place cus at least we’d be cold together.”_

_Bucky laughed softly. “Yeah. Hey, quick question.”_

_“Shoot.”_

_“We’re gonna make it through all this shit. Together. Right?”_

_Steve rolled over so that he was facing Bucky. “Of course.”_

_Every time Bucky exhaled he could feel the soft burst of air against his cheek and smell the undertones of alcohol. “The world’s going to hell.” Bucky’s voice was soft and fragile. It wasn’t very often that Steve heard it like this and he instinctively rolled over and reached out to wrap his arms around the other man. Bucky adjusted his head to allow it and to press himself even closer to Steve._

_“I know,” Steve murmured into Bucky’s dark, messy hair. “But at least I’ve got you by my side.”_

_Bucky adjusted his head and Steve felt the soft brush of lips against his neck. “Til the end of the line?” The feeling of his breath against Steve’s neck was adding to Steve’s alcohol fueled haze. It was as though time had drastically slowed down and forgotten the two of them laying there beside each other in the too-small tent._

_Steve gave Bucky a little squeeze. “Until the end of the line.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading! I always feel a little silly when I write fluff, but I gave it a whirl and I hope it worked out for everyone.  
> For all those from the US, I hope you had a good Thanksgiving holiday!


	10. Chapter 10

A few days passed without incident. The morning found Steve wide awake and at the edge of the forest behind the house. The air was light and chilled and the smell of decaying vegetation hung thickly around him. _Winter’s gonna be tough._ He clutched the axe in his hands even tighter and brought it down to split the log in front of him. The nights were too cold to bear these days and the house needed a roaring fire in the fire place to keep everyone warm.

 

The snapping of twigs somewhere in the trees stopped him. Steve glanced around, trying to make out any strange figures between the trunks. Visibility was low and he chalked it up to some animal scurrying for safety. Probably getting ready to hibernate or something. He prepped another log for splitting, but was interrupted by yet another strange noise from the forest. This time it was more of a sigh. He quickly split the next log and looked down at the dismal pile of wood he had managed to accumulate.

 

That’s when three grotesque, misshapen forms trudge from between the trees. One was larger than the others, but significantly more decayed. Gray muscles were visible in the long vertical tears in the creature’s arms and torso. Its jaw was slack and its eyes unfocused. The other two were more petite, barely more than thin skin stretched over protruding bones. The hair on their head was thin and patchy. One was missing its eyes and stared at Steve with gaping holes in its skull. He wondered how it was able to navigate through the world. A small part of him wondered how it lost its eyes.

 

He couldn’t handle three of them without backup. Not safely anyway. And there wasn’t a chance in hell that he was going to lose his life over a pile of wood. That’s when a shot rang out over the calm morning air. Somewhere in the forest a pack of dark birds stirred out of the treetops and fled.

 

Steve gathered up the fire wood in his hands and made for the gate. As he approached he was met by Thor, armed only with a hatchet. “Friend, Steve! We require-“ he stopped, noticing the three approaching corpses.

 

“What’s going on?” Steve asked pushing past him. Thor retreated into the back yard and slammed the gate shut behind them, making sure to lock it.

 

“A herd approaches. Larger than any we’ve encountered.”

 

Steve quickly slipped into the house, dropping the firewood at the door, and hurried upstairs. “We’ve got a visual?”

 

“Coming down the street.” Tony’s voice answered from the study. Steve entered the room to find Tasha poised at the window toting a rifle and staring down the scope. His jaw almost dropped as he saw what could only be described as a sea of dead limping toward them.

 

“Th-that’s insane. We’ve got to get out of here,” he said, glancing between Tony and Tasha.

 

“You’re preaching to the choir,” Tony replied with a shrug.

 

Steve turned his attention to the woman at the window. “Natasha, listen to me. We can’t beat them all. And pretty soon this streets going to be crawling with them. It’s not safe.”

 

“I’ve already told you, Steve,” Natasha’s voice was quiet. “I’m not leaving.” She cocked the rifle and aimed it once more to fire on the crowd. A single body dropped and the rest of them compensated by stepping over it.

 

Steve turned back to Tony, “Pack up supplies. We’re moving out as soon as we can.”

 

Surprisingly, Tony did not argue. He gave a cheesy little salute before rushing off. Steve turned his attention back to Natasha. “Tasha, what can I say to make you come with us?”

 

She shook her head. Her expression was flat, but her eyes were slowly welling with tears. “Sorry, Steve. I’ve made up my mind. And unfortunately, I’m just as stubborn as you are.”

 

“Do you know how I know my friend’s still alive?” Steve asked quietly.

 

“You don’t.”

 

“Exactly. But the minute I stop having faith in him is the minute he becomes dead. My faith is keeping him alive. If only in my mind. But that’s the best I can do right now. And you can stay here. You can face those monsters alone. But at the end of the day, you’ll be dead and your friend will be dead too. You can’t keep him alive- you can’t keep his memory alive if you’re not.”

 

Tasha laughed humorlessly and wiped her eye with the back of her hand. “Not the best pep-talk I’ve heard.”

 

“I’m just saying that leaving this place won’t ruin the faith you’ve got for your friend,” Steve replied earnestly. “You can leave and still believe he’s alive. You can still find him.”

 

“How?” Natasha’s voice was cracking dangerously. “How will I ever find him out there?”

 

Steve shook his head. “I’m sorry, Tasha. But that’s the whole thing about fate. You’ve got to trust it.”

 

“Goddamnit,” Tasha muttered, wringing her hands on the barrel of the rifle. “God. Damn. It.”

 

“Hey Steve!” Tony’s voice called from downstairs. “We’re basically all packed up down here. But we gotta go now!”

 

“We’ll be ready in a second!” Steve called. “Just make sure we’ve got everything.”

 

Natasha’s tears were flowing freely now as she watched the approaching hoard. They were only ten yards from the house. “I need an answer,” Steve said. His tone was still gentle but his voice carried some urgency now.

 

Natasha blinked for a moment before nodding profusely. “Yeah. Sure. Let’s go.” She stood and the two rushed down stairs to find Tony toting a duffle bag while Thor heaved two garbage bags in his arms.

 

“We’re out!” Steve cried as Natasha threw the door open and the three made their way to the van. Thor threw the bags in the back and climbed in while Tony took the driver’s side. Natasha shut the door behind them and clambered into the passenger’s seat while Steve got in the back.

 

The car sputtered to life and pulled out of the driveway. Tony glanced around Natasha at the oncoming crowd. “Okay. Not going that way.” The van lurched as he pulled up onto the sidewalk and rode through the grass bordering Natasha’s property and the forest. “Don’t tell anyone. I don’t want my license revoked.”

 

“Tony!” Steve cried, pointing at the small group he had seen clamber out of the forest earlier. They were still milling around behind Natasha’s house. Tony swerved to avoid them, luckily not hitting anything.

 

Tony maneuvered between homes until he was on the main road. “Which way, friends? I need a little direction.”

 

“Not toward town,” Natasha replied. “Keep following this road.”

 

“Where are we going?” Tony asked.

 

“Anywhere but here” was Natasha’s answer.

 

“Okay.” Tony was still breathing heavily. He glanced in his rearview mirror. “I think we’re losing them. Objects in mirror are larger than they appear, right?”

 

“Tony, you have spoken of New York City,” Thor remarked.

 

“Be more specific, big guy. New York’s a second home to me,” Tony replied.

 

“You say there is a colony of survivors. With the support of the military!”

 

Tony’s expression brightened. “Oh yeah!” he laughed and clapped the steering wheel with his right hand. “Kind of a long shot. It was more of a rumor I’d heard. Worth a shot though, right?”

 

“New York is in the direction I’m headed. I’d like to stick around until then, and then I’m out of your hair,” Steve replied.

 

“Oh come on!” Tony said, looking at Steve through the rearview mirror. “Don’t be like that. We like having you around. Well, at least I like having you around.”

 

“Steve’s got things he needs to do,” Natasha said, watching the trees flash by her window. “We’ll be happy to take you to New York.”

 

Steve smiled, “Thanks. We might see each other again after that. Who knows.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry for the late update. I've been really busy with school and everything. I scraped together and wrote the next chapter though so I feel a little good about that!
> 
> Just some things for you Clint/Bruce fans:  
> • Clint and Bruce will appear later on in the fic (like super soon I promise!!) but unfortunately not in this chapter

The car ride was quiet, each of the four lost in their own thoughts. Natasha was napping in the front with a map she had discovered in the glove box open on her lap. Thor was beginning to nod off as well, his eyelids sagging and his posture slumped. He couldn’t see Tony’s face, but he assumed the ride was wearing on him too. Steve watched the continuous blur of trees from his window. He wondered where they were and how much longer it would take to get to the city. A few hours had already passed since they had started their journey and now the sun was steadily falling from its peak in the sky.

 

The silence was interrupted by a mechanical beeping noise. “Shit,” Tony muttered, angling himself to get a better look at the symbols illuminated on the dash.

 

The commotion stirred Natasha from her sleep and she leaned over. “What is it?”

 

“We’re almost out of gas.”

 

“Perfect.” She reclined against her seat and rubbed her eyes furiously. “Map’s got a gas station pegged a few miles up the road. It’s part of a rest stop.”

 

“Will there be any of the gasoline left for us there?” Thor asked, leaning forward to join the conversation.

 

“It’s worth a shot,” Steve said. “We can see if there’s any other supplies we can scavenge.”

 

“I wish I shared your optimism,” Tony replied.

 

The car rolled on until a break in the trees was visible on the right with a blue REST STOP sign preceding it. “That’s the place,” Natasha said, pointing.

 

“Thanks, I’ve got eyes,” Tony replied, pulling the wheel to maneuver the car into the rest stop area. The gas station was situated at the far side next to a building painted with a sign signifying restrooms. Two vending machines were visible against the wall of the building, their lights were out, but Steve could see a bit of food inside.

 

“I’ll hit the little girl’s room,” Natasha said as the car pulled up to the pump.

 

“See if you can’t get the food and water out of the vending machines while you’re there,” Steve suggested.

 

Natasha opened her mouth, most likely to counter with a witty reply, before shrugging. “Desperate times we live in.”

 

“How’re we going to get the gas without power?” Steve asked, eyeing the pumps black credit card screen.

 

“They keep tanks of the stuff under ground. We’ll just find a tank and take a little bit from the source,” Tony explained.

 

“Sounds like you’ve done this before.” Steve raised a brow.

 

“Nah. I just read it in a book. There should be a crow bar in the back. We’re gonna need that.”

 

The three men got out of the car. “I will see if there is anything worth salvaging in the convenience mart,” Thor said, pointing at the gas station mini mart.

 

“Perfect. Meet us back here,” Steve replied, making his way to the back of the van. He opened up the door and sifted around their supplies. He produced the metal crowbar and turned it over in his hands.

 

“Hope this works,” he said as he caught up with Tony who was already halfway to the manhole.

 

“Of course it’ll work.” Tony’s tone held a quality of confidence that Steve wished he shared.

 

The two stooped down in front of the manhole cover. “So I’m assuming this is for uncovering that.” Steve indicated the crowbar by waving it slightly.

 

“Yep,” Tony replied, gesturing to the cover. “And the guy who’s built like some crazy Ken-doll-turned-line-backer is perfect for the job.”

 

Steve shook his head and laughed. “Well if you insist.” There was the quick, harsh noise of metal scraping against metal as he fit the crowbar into the groove of the cover. With a slow and pained push on the other end of the crowbar, the cover lifted from the hole, and exposed the reservoir beneath.

 

Tony moved the cover out of the way and it smacked down on the pavement with a metallic thud. He let out a low whistle. “Hard part’s over, probably.”

 

“There’s a sort of nozzle?” Steve pointed to the contraption. “We could try to siphon from there.”

 

“We’re going to need to bring the van closer. We’ve got a hose, but it’s not this long.” Tony stood and produced the keys from his pocket.

 

A few moments later, he was pulling the van in along side the hole. “Do you think the hose’ll reach?” Steve asked, standing up.

 

“Sure why not?” Tony cut the engine and stepped out of the van. “It’s worth a shot.”

 

As they fumbled with the hose and hooking it up to the gas line, Natasha approached with an armful of snacks and drinks. “I got what I could,” she called to them. She opened up the back of the van and dumped the snacks on the seat. “Where’s Thor?”

 

“He’s checking out the mini-mart,” Steve replied, fitting one end of the tube into the car’s gas tank. “He might need some help carrying things.”

 

“On it,” she replied, slamming the door and making her way over to the mini mart.

 

“By the way,” Tony started once Natasha was out of earshot, “Thanks.”

 

“For what?” Steve replied.

 

“Not making it weird. Y’know I haven’t been _exactly_ low-key with the flirting.” He fiddled with the hose even though it was already secured in place. “Guess I’m sorry. If I made you uncomfortable or…y’know whatever.”

 

“You know by saying that this isn’t weird, you’ve made it weird.”

 

Tony rolled is eyes. “Yeah, whatever. _Apology accepted, Tony. You’re a real swell guy!”_

 

Steve laughed, “That supposed to be an impression of me?”

 

Tony joined his laughter, “What gave it away?”

 

They were interrupted by the sound of gunfire and their attention snapped to the mini mart. “Time to go.” Steve was already opening the back door to climb inside the van.

 

“Yup,” Tony said detaching the hose and closing the gas cap. He climbed into the front and turned the key in the ignition. The van sputtered to life and they rolled slowly up to mini mart’s front door.

 

Beyond the grimy shop windows, the store was relatively dark, but there was some movement in the shadows. “Come on, guys,” Tony mumbled under his breath as he pressed the heel of his hand into the car’s horn. “We don’t have all damn day.”

 

Thor’s figure lumbered into view and Steve threw open the door so that the large man could stumble into the back seat. The door slid shut behind him. “Where’s Natasha?” Steve asked, craning his neck to peer around Thor’s form.

 

“She…is holding them off,” Thor was out of breath. Unusual.

 

“Come on, Tasha,” Tony mumbled. “We’ve got places to go, people to see.”

 

“I’m gonna go check on her,” Steve started to open the door.

 

“Shit! No!” Tony waved a hand at him and gestured to the mini mart. Natasha’s form appeared first from the gloom. She was running flat out for the door which she pushed open before frantically scrambling into the front seat.

 

“Go! Go!” she cried and Tony obeyed immediately, peeling off toward the road.

 

“What the hell happened?” Tony’s brown eyes were wide, as he made a turn onto the highway.

 

Steve turned in his seat just in time to see corpse after living corpse stumble through the doorway and into the fading daylight. “How did we miss that?”

 

“Friends…” Thor’s voice was faint and shaky beside Steve. He turned to see Thor cupping a hand to his shoulder. Crimson liquid was seeping between his fingertips and onto the seat.

 

“Oh…no,” Natasha murmured from the front seat. She had turned to face the two and her eyes were on Thor’s wound.

 

“What?” Tony asked, his eyes fixed on the road and his tone panicked. “What now?” His eyes flicked up to the rear view mirror.

 

“He’s hurt,” Steve replied.

 

“No,” Thor replied. He let his head fall back against the head rest and closed his eyes. “I have been bitten.”


	12. Chapter 12

The evening breeze seemed to rip through Steve’s clothes and chill him to the bone. A drizzle sprinkled down upon them as they made their way toward the dark outline of a building in the distance. There was an unsteady silence between them and Steve recalled the conversation from the car.

* * *

 

  _“What the fuck?!” Tony slammed on the breaks, sending everyone sliding forward. Natasha braced herself with her hands to avoid slamming into the dashboard. She quickly fastened her seatbelt._

_“We can’t stop here, Tony.” Her voice was stern._

_“Oh yeah, I’m sorry. Did you miss the part where Thor said he was bitten by one of those things?”_

_“We can’t make a decision here!” She exhaled forcefully, merely inches from completely losing her cool. She continued in a calm voice. “If you can’t keep this van moving consistently, I don’t know if you’re a good choice for driver.”_

_“Guys-“ Steve began as the silhouettes of the quick mart zombies dragged themselves down the road toward them. “We can talk and drive.”_

_“Exactly,” Natasha jumped in. “Thank you, Steve.”_

_The van inched forward as Tony pressed his foot to the gas. “What are we going to do?”_

_“There is no argument to be had. This is where I leave you friends.” Thor hung his head sadly._

_“Now wait just a minute, we can’t just leave you out there by yourself,” Steve replied. “You’d be as good as dead.”_

_Thor let out a hollow laugh. “At this point, I am worse than dead, already.”_

_“Don’t say that”, Steve replied. “We’ll find a way-“_

_“What?” Tony laughed incredulously from the front seat. “To **cure** him?”_

_Natasha looked back at them, her expression pained. “I hate to say it, but Tony’s right.”_

_Steve looked back at her, his jaw slacked in disbelief. “You’re kidding.”_

_“Face it, we can’t just give him some Tylenol and call it a day. Have you seen what a bite does to people?” Natasha replied._

_He had. But, somehow he hoped this was different. Somehow he wished they could save the man bleeding out next to him. “We don’t have to ditch him out there, though. We could keep him…comfortable. Until-“_

_“I appreciate the thought, Steven. I truly do. But I do not want to be a danger to you or the group.” Tony sighed loudly from the front seat._

 

_“Look, we **know** what your opinion is, Tony!” Steve couldn’t keep his voice down any longer._

_“Woah!” Tony glanced up to look at him in the rear-view mirror. “Calm down. I was only gonna say that it couldn’t hurt to bring him along.”_

_“What?” everyone in the car said simultaneously._

_“No need for the tone of surprise everyone, Jesus,” Tony rolled his eyes. “Thor’s a nice guy, and I can see where Steve’s coming from. Besides, small bite like that, it’s gonna take a while for him to-y’know… turn, I guess would be a good word for it.”_

_“It does not feel like an especially small bite,” Thor replied, looking down at his arm._

_“Of course not. Shit's gotta sting. Also it probably looks a lot worse than it is. What with all that blood gushing out. But, if you clean it up, I promise it won’t look as scary.”_

_“What the hell is your **angle**?” Natasha blurted out, squinting in Tony’s direction._

_“Am I not allowed to feel compassion for another human being?” Tony replied, throwing her a fake expression of sadness._

_“You’re allowed. Doesn’t mean you always do it.”_

_“Wow, I’m offended. I’ll remember you said that.”_

_While they bickered back and forth, Steve unbuckled his seat belt to reach back into the back of the van. He rummaged around in the supplies before producing a black plastic bottle of hydrogen peroxide and a roll of gauze. “Is this all of the first aid stuff?” he asked, grasping the bottle and gauze in one hand while continuing to search with the other._

_Thor craned his neck to look at what Steve was doing. “I would assume so,” he replied._

_“Alright, well-“ Steve ripped off a bit of gauze and soaked it with the peroxide. “This is going to hurt.”_

_Thor nodded and rolled up his tattered, bloody sleeve to reveal the seeping wound. Steve reached out to dab the wound with the gauze and Thor inhaled sharply and winced. “You were not jesting,” he hissed through clenched teeth._

_“You’re almost cleaned up,” Steve replied, quickly swiping over the wound a couple of times before cleaning the drying blood on the rest of Thor’s arm. “Tony’s right, the bite’s not that big.”_

_“Did I hear **Tony’s right** back there?” Tony spoke excitedly from the front seat._

_Steve began wrapping the remaining gauze around Thor’s arm. “Unfortunately.” He finished up before smiling weakly at Thor. “I think the big decision should be up to Thor. If he wants to stay, he's welcome to. And if not-” He cut off and instead finished his sentence by rolling up the remaining gauze and capping the black bottle._

_Thor glanced away to look at the landscape passing by outside the van. There was a few moments of silence as he contemplated. “I would like to stay for as long as you will have me,” he said slowly. “However, when it becomes apparent that I will change soon…I would like for one of you to end it for me. I do not wish to roam this Earth as a lifeless husk.”_

_“You got it,” Steve replied. “Objections?” No one spoke. “Good. So it’s settled.”_

_“It’s getting dark,” Natasha remarked. “Those things seem to go wild at night. Do we want to stop somewhere. We only have to stay until morning.”_

_“Sounds like you’ve got some place in mind” Tony remarked._

_“I used to rent a cabin during the spring. It’s only a few miles up the road.”_

* * *

 

“Nice place,” Tony remarked as the troop neared the cabin.

 

Natasha held a hand up and everyone halted. “You guys see that?” she asked, pointing to a window on the second floor. A faint light flickered in a gap between the thick curtains.

 

“Well, did we really think it was going to be empty?” Tony asked. “Probably a couple of squatters.”

 

“We can’t just charge in there guns blazing,” Steve replied and Thor grunted weakly in agreement.

 

The four stood rooted, looking up at the window. Natasha chewed her lower lip and her gaze darted around the house. Probably looking for an alternative way in. The rain began to fall more forcefully and Steve could hear its gentle _pitter-patter_ against the cabin’s roof. “I’m going to go around the back, see if we can’t get in through the kitchen. You guys head back to the van and grab a gun or two.”

 

“We don’t want them to think we’re here for fight,” Steve chimed in.

 

“Well, we’re going to look like ass holes if we show up unarmed and they’ve got automatic rifles,” Natasha replied.

 

“She’s got a point.” Tony shrugged and turned to head back to the van. Natasha was already making her way to the back of the house leaving Steve and Thor to stand at the porch.

 

“How are you feeling?” Steve asked quietly, watching Tony’s dark figure retreating.

 

“Not myself, but not quite ill. If that makes any sense,” Thor replied, he was watching the sliver of light above them.

 

“Let me know if that changes.” Steve clapped a hand to Thor’s good shoulder and the two exchanged a smile.

 

They were interrupted by a loud bang and the two whipped around to see two men outlined against the light coming from within the cabin. One was tall and had a surprisingly trim appearance for someone living in a post apocalyptic society. In his hands he boasted a rifle. The other was shorter and thick around the middle. His thinning, light hair seemed to be plastered to the top of his head and he wiped a thin sheen of sweat from his brow. He squinted at them through thick circular glasses and he too had a gun pointed at them. “That is close enough, friends.” The taller man spoke with a thick German accent.

 

“Sorry, we didn’t realize anyone was here,” Steve spoke before raising his voice, hoping Natasha could hear him somewhere within the cabin. “We’ll just be going now.”

 

“Hold on,” the man replied, stepping forward and cocking his rifle. “You are trespassing. That will cost you.”

 

“We do not wish to cause you any trouble,” Thor chimed in.

 

“And we do not want any. We simply require your supplies.”

 

“Sorry pal,” a smug voice spoke from behind Steve and Thor. Steve closed his eyes and used all of his will power to hold back a heavy sigh. Tony was going to get them killed with this kind of stuff. "We're not giving hand outs."

 

“How many of you are there?” the shorter man spoke, pushing his glasses further up his nose to glare at Tony.

 

“Just us,” Steve replied quickly.

 

“Schmidt! Another back here!” A burly man with untamed graying hair and a thick beard appeared behind them gripping Natasha firmly by the arm. “She put up quite a fight.”

 

“Trying to fool us.” The taller man clicked his tongue. “Out of the kindness of my heart I was willing to let you leave. But, now-“ he turned to aim his gun at Natasha “-you’re going to have to die.”

 

“Hey! Hey!” A fourth man appeared from the second floor. He leaned against the bannister looking down at the scene. Something about him gave off a forced nonchalance. “What’s going on.”

 

Natasha glanced up at him and her expression froze. There was something unreadable in her expression.

 

“Trespassers,” the short man waved his gun to indicate the group. “Go back to your nap.”

 

“What?” The man began descending the stairs.

 

“Is your hearing aid broken?” the tall man hissed. “These people were _trespassing_.”

 

“We don’t need to be shooting anyone in the damn foyer!” The man reached the bottom of the stairs and approached the door. Steve could make out a strap across his chest holding a quiver of arrows to his back. He gripped a full size bow in one hand and a mug in the other. “Besides, that rug you’re standing on is an antique. Also, _when_ did we become a raving band of savages?”

 

The tall one rolled his eyes, “Why do we keep you around?”

 

“I’m just saying maybe it's a _little_ unfair to execute people without hearing their side of the story. Where's the judge and jury?”

 

“I do not think you understood what being a _scavenger_ meant when you joined up,” the man holding Natasha’s arm hissed.

 

“Well, it’s not like I had much of a choice, pal. As I recall my options were _join_ or _die_.”

 

“What the hell are you looking at?” The short man confronted Natasha who had not taken her gaze off the new man since his appearance.

 

“What does it matter,” the tall man growled. “Clint,” he addressed the man with the bow. “Go out there and get their supplies.

 

“Sorry, no can do,” the man replied. He was wearing a stupid grin.

 

“What do you _mean_ no can do?”

 

“I guess I haven’t been _entirely_ honest with you fellas. Not like you can blame me, though, right?” Steve realized that he was grinning at Natasha. And that she seemed to be smirking back at him…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to everyone looking for Clint! There he is. He's definitely more comicbook/cartoon Clint just because so far the MCU hasn't given much to work with in therms of characterization. If you're like 'wtf why is clint hanging out with these assholes' dw it's going to get cleared up in the next chapter (plus there's gonna be hella action so buckle up)


	13. Chapter 13

Everything happened simultaneously. Natasha’s free hand swiped upward and she smashed the heel of her hand into her captor’s nose. There was a dull crack before his blood seeped between her fingers. He cried out in agony and doubled over while releasing Natasha’s arm to cup both hands over his face. She gripped the back of his head before slamming a fist into the side of his head. His muscled body immediately crumbled into a pile on the floor.

 

The stranger-well Clint as he had been identified, reached behind him to pluck an arrow from his quiver. Steve’s mind had already been hit with a shot of adrenaline and so he was free to wonder, _Where is his bow?_ As it would turn out, he didn’t need it. He gripped the end as though he were gripping the hilt of a blade before driving the tip into the tall man’s throat. The man backed up, his dominant hand found it’s way up to the shaft of the arrow and his mouth forming silent words. The shotgun clattered to his side and he looked down with wide eyes at the foreign object lodged in his wind-pipe.

 

The entire encounter lasted merely seconds and when they turned on the short man, he was barely done processing what had happened to his comrades. His beady eyes flickered from the form on the floor to the other man who had fallen to his knees, wheezing, and sliding the arrow from his neck. Natasha’s leg kicked out to strike the center of his wrist and the gun in his hand clattered to the floor as his fingers spasmed wildly.

 

The man swore under his breath before addressing them. “Please!” he threw his hands up and took a step back. “I mean you no harm.”

 

Clint’s laughter was completely devoid of humor. “If you’re looking for forgiveness, I’m sorry, but I’m fresh out. But, you _can_ tell me where you sent the rest of the _scavengers_?”

 

The man’s thin pale lips pulled together and he glanced between Natasha and Clint. “What does it matter?”

 

“You know I’ve got like fifty more arrows back here.” Clint reached around to pat his quiver.

 

Steve took the opportunity to move forward and pick up the discarded gun on the porch. Having the weapon within reach of the enemy made him uncomfortable. Almost as uncomfortable as the potential torture that sounded likely to ensue.

 

“They’ll be back.”

 

“Okay, yeah, but when.” Steve couldn’t see Clint’s face from where he was standing, but his tone was dark.

 

“Sooner than you’d like.”

 

Clint’s right hook was quick and mean. He had to squat down a bit to get on the guy’s level, but he managed to make contact with his jaw. The man staggered backward before ultimately falling over.

 

Clint quickly turned to face Natasha, placing a hand on either of her shoulders. He opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off. “We need to get moving.”

 

“Right, they’ve got some food. Not a lot. That’s why they went on the supply run.” Clint spoke quickly and quietly. “They’ve got guys patrolling the woods behind the place, so nobody needs to be out back. We don’t need to draw attention to ourselves.”

 

“I’ll grab the food,” Tony offered, sliding past everyone to get inside.

 

“Kitchen’s in the far back past the parlor,” Clint informed him. “They’ve got some medical stuff I can scrape together. Clothes too. Soap I guess. The essential-nonessentials.”

 

“Is there any fuel?” Steve asked. “We stopped earlier for gas and well-“ he glanced over at Thor who looked down to avoid anyone’s gaze.

 

Clint exhaled and shook his head. “They keep some gas outside in the shed. But like I said, there’s patrol.”

 

“I got this,” Natasha said, breaking away from him.

 

Clint’s expression was pained and there was an edge of loss to it. For a second, Steve thought he was going to tell Natasha ‘no’. “Be careful” was all he said.

 

“Careful’s my middle name,” she replied, before making her way to the back of the house.

 

“It’s Alianovna but yeah sure.” Clint shook his head, but his face had lightened a bit.

 

He turned to Steve, “You can help me carry.”

 

“Will do,” Steve replied before turning to Thor. “Hey, do you wanna go back to the van and open it up so we can get this stuff in there.” Go wait in the van sounded harsh, at least this way Thor could feel like he was contributing.

 

Thor nodded and strode off into the semi-darkness.

 

When Steve turned back, Clint was gone and he was left in the foray with two unconscious men and one who was wheezing wetly. A particularly chilling gust of wind sprayed him with rain that was coming down in sheets now. For a moment there was quiet. The smell of wet earth was overpowering and under the right circumstances, he might have felt at peace.

 

There was a clatter as Tony appeared with his arms filled with cans and jars. “Do you need help?” Steve asked, stepping forward (and over one of the unconscious men).

 

“Don’t worry, I got it,” Tony replied, creeping around the bodies on the ground. “These guys are pretty wild, huh.”

 

“Clint and Tasha or-“ Steve nodded to the guys on the ground.

 

“Both.”

 

Steve nodded. Tony had a point. The guys squatting in the cabin were armed and numerous. Their friends…they were just plain dangerous. Not to the group. But, there was some sort of special training or something there. The moves they pulled out weren’t something you’d just pick up at your local community center’s self defense class. They were practiced and precise.

 

“Little help.” Clint’s voice from the second floor pulled Steve from his thoughts and he climbed up. The steps squeaked under his weight and he found lumps wrapped in blankets at the top of the stairs.

 

“Is this the medical stuff?” Steve asked. Clint shook his head and disappeared into a room down the hall. “Okay, what is it?”

 

“That jacket the only thing you have to keep you warm?” Clint’s voice carried from down the hall.

 

“Got it.” Steve hoisted the bundles onto his back and carried them down the stairs before making his way out into the rain. It came down splashing into his eyes and drenching him almost instantly.

 

He approached the van to find Tony inspecting Thor’s arm. “Is he okay?” Steve asked, having to raise his voice against the roar of the storm.

“He’s fine,” Tony replied, dropping Thor’s arm and instead focusing on helping Steve dump the bundles into the trunk. “What’s all this shit?”

 

“It’s for the winter,” Steve answered. Tony didn’t question him further. “Stay here with Thor,” Steve ordered before heading back to the house. He was paces away from the porch when the sound of gunfire pierced the night.

 

Clint appeared in the doorway, something tucked under his arm and a bundle thrown over his shoulder. He looked around, trying to find the source of the gunfire. Steve sprinted to him. “The watch?” He could taste bile at the back of his throat. The men patrolling were clearly armed and he didn’t know how many of them were out there. More importantly, Natasha was out there somewhere. Most likely the target for their gunfire.

 

“Take these.” Clint dropped the bundle to the floor and pushed the case under his arm into Steve’s hands. The white plastic sported a red cross on the front. _Thank God a real first aid kit._ “You guys have the van packed?” Clint continued.

 

“Yes,” Steve answered quickly.

 

“Get in. Keep the engine running. I’ll be over in a sec.” He turned on his heel to bolt to the back of the house.

 

Steve scooped up the bundle and tucked the first aid kit under his arm before sprinting back to the van.

 

“What the hell’s going on?” Tony asked as Steve dumped the bundle in the trunk before throwing the first aid in after it.

 

“Not sure. Get the van running.” Steve turned to bolt off toward the cabin.

 

“Great. Now he’s running _toward_ the gunfire.” Tony’s mumblings were barely audible above the rain.

 

As Steve left the van behind and neared the house, Clint and Natasha came sprinting from the front door. There were five red containers, filled with gasoline Steve assumed, between them. “Get to the van!” Natasha’s voice was frantic and she threw a glance over her shoulder.

 

Three men, armed with shotguns were right on their tail. There was a loud bang followed by a projectile whizzing through the air to burrow into the ground at Steve’s feet. None of the three men had fired. More men appeared from around the back of the house and Steve’s instincts kicked in. He turned to bolt back to the van, Natasha and Clint following closely behind. The heavy rain provided some decreased visibility but it was a straight shot to the van. The three were zig-zagging in order to avoid a potential bullet in the back. The gunfire was thunder in the storm.

 

Clint swore loudly behind him and Steve turned to see what happened.

 

“Keep running!” Clint hissed.

 

The three of them neared the van and Natasha threw open the front door with a free hand and tumbled inside. Steve slid open the back door and allowed Clint to clamber in before he took one last look at the cabin. A heartbeat later, a loud _boom_ rocked through the rain. The glass windows shattered on the first floor and flames slithered out and licked up toward the sky. The blast had knocked the dark figures on that side of the house down.

 

“Come on Steve!” Natasha’s voice warned from the front seat.

 

The entry way was growing brighter, flickering. Steve realized a moment later that it was on fire. As were the men standing in it. His stomach lurched violently as he clambered into the back seat and slammed the door behind him. “What the hell-“

 

“We might have caused a little gas leak.” Clint’s voice was far too calm for comfort in the seat next to him. “Also might’ve left a couple candles burning. And then maybe dropped some gas along the way.”

 

“I’m surprised the grill didn’t-“ Natasha was cut off by another quick explosion followed by the unmistakable sounds of screams. “I spoke too soon.”

 

As the van peeled off into the night it left behind a hungry, glowing blaze.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> H o l y c r a p it has really been a long time since I've updated this fic!  
> Seriously I am the WORST at replying to comments bc I don't get email updates (& sometimes I don't wanna spoil for you guys) but thank you SO much for leaving me love! It's really nice knowing there are real life people out there reading the silly stuff I'm posting online and I'm so glad you're all showing it a lot of love!
> 
> I'm trying to update more frequently because I really don't want updates to be a tri-annual event!


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies in advance. This chapter was hard for me to write.

“How’s your arm?” One of the back doors of the van was shut and Steve was leaning against it.

 

Thor was sitting in the back against the mountains of supplies and letting his feet dangle. He looked down at the bandages. Blood was beginning to seep through the outermost layer. Thor had been bitten quite some time ago and it was unusual for a wound to continue bleeding this long. Steve was even more concerned. He glanced around the clearing they had chosen to park in and his unease swelled. Their position was much too vulnerable for his liking.

 

“Relax.” An approaching voice said. Steve looked up to see Tony walking toward them, hands stuffed in his pants pocket and his sleeves rolled up past his elbows. Steve’s expression must have given him away.

 

“I don’t like it here,” he replied.

 

“You mentioned. About a hundred times.” Tony shook his head. “Like we said, we’re all beat-“

 

“I’m fine to drive,” Steve cut in.

 

“-And those ass holes are probably on the road right now looking for us so it’s best to lay low. At least for right now.” Tony finished without acknowledging Steve’s interjection.

 

About twenty feet away, Nat and her pal were building up a fire. “Is that really the best idea?” Steve asked, nervously glancing around between the trees.

 

“How are we supposed to defend ourselves if we can’t see shit?” Tony replied. “Also I’m not against breaking out the hot dogs and having a little barbeque.” He leaned over into the back of the van to rummage through their supplies.

 

“If there is food to be made, I would like some,” Thor said, leaning against the inside of the van.

 

“You got it, buddy!” Tony said producing a pack of sausages and a metal rod. It appeared to be a fireplace poker and Steve wondered vaguely if Tony had snatched it from Tasha’s place before they left. “You need to build up your strength. Dogs all around.” He swaggered away toward the fire leaving Steve and Thor to themselves.

 

“I will not be well for much longer.” Thor’s voice was normally loud and thunderous, but right now it was uncharacteristically meek.

 

“Don’t talk like that.” Steve couldn’t bring himself to look at his friend.

 

“For this entire ordeal I have been nothing but truthful,” Thor said looking at some indistinct spot in the distance. “And I wish to continue to be truthful.”

 

Steve finally looked down at Thor. His shoulder length blond hair was pulled back into a short ponytail and Steve’s heart wrenched as he looked at his friend’s face. Thor’s expression was placid, but his eyes were washed over with tears that were threatening to spill onto his cheeks. “What’s wrong?” Steve asked quietly as he pushed some of their supplies back to take a seat next to his friend.

 

Thor exhaled slowly and shook his head as though he were trying to work his way through a difficult problem. “I am afraid.”

 

“I’d be worried if you weren’t,” Steve replied. “No one knows what’s on the other side.”

 

Thor laughed humorlessly. “I am not afraid of where I will end up. I have made peace with my actions and their consequences. No, I worry for those I leave behind. My family…”

 

“Hey,” Steve reached out to pat Thor’s shoulder. “We don’t know what’s happening over there. It could be an isolated incident. They could be alive and well right now.”

 

“Before I parted and left for the States, my father and I had a falling out.” Thor quickly rubbed the heels of his palms into his eyes, obscuring the tears there.  He lowered his hands and looked down at them. “He called me many things. Vain, cruel, greedy-“

 

“You aren’t _any_ of those things,” Steve replied quickly. “And he was upset. We say a lot of unfair things when we’re angry.”

 

Thor chuckled a bit. “You did not know me before this, Steven. The more I think about it the more I realize that my father was right.” There was a pause where neither of them spoke. “I called him a fool.” Faint firelight flickered across Thor’s face. His features twisted into an expression of sorrow. “I called him a foolish old man. That is the last exchange we will ever have.”

 

“That’s why you cared so much about phoning home,” Steve said slowly.

 

Thor nodded. “If only to apologize. To hear their voices one last time. To know all is well.”

 

The two of them sat in silence for a few moments before Tony returned. Two of the three hotdogs on the poker were somewhat burnt but Steve and Thor accepted them thankfully. “No buns?” Steve asked, gingerly handling the hot meat.

 

“Nah. Carbs are bad for you anyway.” Tony took a bite from the remaining dog, which was still skewered.

 

As the night wore on, Steve ravenously consumed dinner (more hot dogs, a bag of chips, and a can of cola almost like the kind of stuff you’d get at a ball game. Almost.) and volunteered for the first watch. Thor had insisted on taking watch as well, mostly because staying put and looking around was as much as he could contribute in his current state. Tony also volunteered, but he insisted it was because he didn’t want to be in the van with Clint and Tasha. _Third wheel those two? Nah, I’ll stick to the zombie- infested woods, if you don’t mind._

The three of them sat around the fire, sharing stories from their lives before the plague, laughing, and taking pulls from a bottle of liquor Tony had snuck from the van. This was the first time since they had been on the road that tensions weren’t high. Soon worries of vulnerability, zombies, and blood-thirsty bandits were washed away with alcohol. Each was lost in the moment, forgetting to count how many times their lips touched the bottle. Steve was finishing a particular story he had about driving around town with the girl he liked and pointing out all the places he had gotten his ass kicked. “Really stupid.” He ended with a laugh. “Can’t believe I told her all that crap.”

  
Thor snored loudly at his side and Steve glanced over at Tony. “Looks like you put him to sleep.”

 

Steve muttered something about not being _that_ boring as Tony prodded the fire with the same metal rod he had used to cook their hot dogs. “Fire’s getting a little low.” He got to his feet and swayed a bit. “More wood!”

 

A laugh escaped Steve’s throat, because _man Tony must’ve had a lot._ Then he stood up and the world shifted a little violently beneath him and he vaguely wondered how much _he_ had. A very minute voice in the very back of his mind was saying something about being irresponsible, but Steve was too hazy to really care.

 

He stumbled after Tony, who seemed to be struggling as much as he was. They trod through the fallen leaves littering the ground and ducked between trees. “Where’re we going?” Steve asked and Tony violently shushed him. “Where’re we going?” he repeated in a whisper.

 

As they wandered further from the glow of the campfire, the minute voice in Steve’s head grew louder. _We should head back._

“We didn’t get what we came for,” Tony replied, grasping a nearby tree for support. Steve hadn’t realized he spoke aloud.

 

As they moved forward it became harder for Steve to make out his surroundings. Tony became a staggering shadow in front of him, winding through the towering silhouettes of trees. Finally, Steve had enough. His buzz was wearing off and he was getting really tired of playing follow the leader. He reached out and gripped the back of Tony’s shirt. Tony stumbled back as Steve wrenched him toward himself.

 

“Come on,” Tony chuckled, “What are you so afraid of?”

 

“What are _you_ so afraid of.” The childish words tumbled out of Steve’s mouth before he could think and he regretted them instantly.

 

He hadn’t expected Tony’s genuine answer. “I’m afraid of what we’ll find when we reach the city.”

 

Steve couldn’t make out Tony’s expression, but his own was one of confusion. “New York? I seem to remember you getting really excited about getting there. You said there was a colony. Military support.”

 

“I’ve said a lot of things,” Tony mumbled, and Steve could feel an angry heat rising through his body.

 

“So what you’re saying is there’s not _really_ a colony.”

 

“Well, who knows if there is I mean-“ Tony’s words were cut off because he had been slammed into a nearby tree trunk. Bark dug into his back as Steve pinned him to the spot.

 

“Why is it always one lie after another with you?” Steve’s voice was rising. His brain was sluggishly processing what was going on. He didn’t really care about whether or not there was a colony in New York, did he? It wasn’t like he was going to be sticking around. But what if Tony’s lie puts the group in danger? He couldn’t bear to think of his friends getting hurt. And, underneath all of those swirling thoughts, something hurt. It hurt to be lied to by Tony. Again.

 

Tony hissed, “Will you keep it down? God! Before you jump to conclusions, I’ve already _told you_ it was basically a rumor I picked up! I’m nervous because our entire decision is riding on someone else’s word and I don’t like it.”

 

Steve relaxed, but he was still pressed up against Tony. “S-Sorry,” he muttered, the alcoholic haze vaporizing quickly.

 

“Why don’t you trust me?” Tony’s voice had an odd expression underlying it and Steve wished he could see his face.

 

“I said I was sorry.”

 

“What can I do to make you trust me?” Tony’s breath was hot against the skin just above Steve’s collar. He realized suddenly that Tony was pressing up against him. The abruptness of the question mixed with the lingering effects of alcohol had Steve floundering for an answer. Tony leaned back against the tree and for a moment Steve panicked, wondering if he’d done something wrong. “I trust _you_.”

 

“Why?” Steve retorted. He was still squinting desperately in the dark, trying to read Tony’s expression.

 

“Because you’re a frickin’ boy-scout.”

 

Steve’s laugh seemed to echo between the trees. “Okay. You definitely don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 

“Prove it.”

 

“Excuse me?” Steve raised a brow even though his face was unreadable in the dark.

 

“Prove it.”

 

“How?” Even though they had stopped stomping through the forest, Steve still felt as though he was being strung along. He could feel himself becoming more and more annoyed by the second.

 

“I’ll let you figure it out.”

 

He wasn’t sure if he was trying to prove himself by shocking Tony, or if he was just getting back at him for being an ass hole, or if he was motivated by something else entirely.  Slowly, he leaned in closer to Tony’s dark form, and as their noses brushed he vaguely considered how potentially cruel his actions really were. But, he was in too deep and Tony had stopped breathing and for a moment he felt triumphant. “I’m _not_ a boy-scout,” he muttered. Their lips were inches away now.

 

He expected that to be the end of it. He thought they were going to laugh and go back to whatever the hell they were doing _before_ their petty argument. He was wrong. Tony tilted his head forward and timidly (since when was Tony anything but brash?) pressed their lips together.

 

Steve didn’t realize the full consequences of his actions until Tony pulled away uneasily. Because, he realized, that was the complete opposite of what he wanted. Tony was loud and reckless, but there was more than that. He made Steve laugh and he wasn’t afraid to give his opinion, even if it was an unpopular one. Because Tony always had something to say and he was always sure to get _someone_ to listen. He was courageous and-

 

Steve’s lips were on Tony’s once more, but this time was different. It wasn’t shy and uncertain. It was pressing and deprived. Tony’s right hand gripped Steve’s shirt, effectively pulling him closer while the other found its way to Steve’s hip. All of Tony’s prior reserve was gone and his tongue danced across Steve’s lower lip. The world was starting to spin again and he reached out to grip the tree behind Tony, effectively anchoring them in place. The fingers of his free hand raked through Tony’s hair.

 

Tony’s hip’s rolled forward into his own and he opened his mouth to make a choked off little noise. Tony took the opportunity to slide his tongue between Steve’s parted lips. For a while their quiet groans were the only sounds in the forest. But, Steve stopped suddenly and turned to look at a point somewhere to their right. “No,” Tony whispered hoarsely as he reached up to pull Steve back to him.

 

“Did you hear that?” Steve was squinting into the semi-darkness. The moon was struggling to penetrate the leafy canopy above. The rustling Steve heard earlier was growing louder.

 

“Shit,” Tony breathed, following Steve’s gaze. “Could be an animal.” His voice was full of false hope.

 

“Could be a lot of things,” Steve muttered, stepping away from Tony and groping blindly for his hand.

 

“What are you doing?”

 

Steve shushed him and found Tony’s free hand and pulled him away from the noise. They crept away as quietly as possible, but they could not avoid the crackling leaves beneath their feet. “We’re going to lead it right to camp,” Tony hissed, still allowing himself to be lead.

 

“We can’t see what we’re dealing with out here,” Steve replied quietly, still trying to spot a figure in the darkness.

 

As they neared camp, Steve’s stomach flopped. Thor was still slumbering beside the fire, which was now so small it barely illuminated him. He looked back at Tony, dropping his hand, and quietly taking in his appearance. Tony’s dark hair was thoroughly mussed, a couple of buttons on his shirt were undone, and Steve shouldn’t have felt so accomplished.

 

They quickly gathered whatever twigs, branches, and leaves they could within the wooded area surrounding the fire and Tony got to work building it up. Steve sat quietly and watched as the flames regained their life. A couple of minutes later Thor sat up, blinking heavily against the light and yawning. “We have kept watch for a while now. Perhaps it is time to change shifts.”

 

“Says the guy that was asleep for most of the night,” Tony muttered.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Alicia Keys voice) New York~  
> I'm going to apologize right now because this chapter is so derivative of AMCs The Walking Dead (Like Rick rolling up to Atlanta + the whole CDC thing). So yeah I'm really sorry and please do not let it spoil your reading experience. Enjoy!

Steve didn’t know what he expected after his out-of-the-blue kiss with Tony in the woods. But, Tony’s new invisible wall was not very high on the list. When Tony wasn’t driving the van, he made sure to call shotgun. On the final stretch of road to New York, Natasha was in the driver’s seat, her green eyes scanning the road for signs of impending danger. Tony was dozed off in the passenger’s seat, his head rested against the window.

 

Steve was sitting directly behind Natasha and for the ride so far he had tried to catch Tony’s gaze. But, it seemed that Tony was determined to look out of the windshield or his window and ignore anyone else in the car. Clint was seated next to Steve in the middle seat, his legs propped up on the armrest between the driver and passenger. Tony had protested, but after Clint threatened to kick him, he seemed to decide it wasn’t worth the effort. Thor was slumped in his seat behind Tony. His attention was much less focused now and he slept for most of the ride. _It won’t be long now_ , Steve thought, feeling his stomach twist into tight knots.

 

A road sign flashed by on the right: New York 50 miles. “So we should get there in an hour,” Natasha announced quietly so that neither Tony nor Thor stirred.

 

“We don’t know where we’re going aside from that,” Steve pointed out.

 

“Tony should know his way around. I would hope,” Natasha replied.

 

“He says there’s a big survivor colony in the city?” Clint asked, folding his arms over his chest.

 

“Yeah, military support and everything.” Steve couldn’t keep the tone of hope from his voice.

 

“Nat, did you hear anything about this at all before Tony brought it up?” he asked, addressing their driver.

 

Natasha shrugged. “No, but I didn’t exactly go out making friends and gossiping after the apocalypse started. You know how that goes.”

 

“You don’t think there’s going to be a colony waiting for us,” Steve inferred.

 

“No. I don’t. You know what they say about things sounding too good to be true.” Clint’s tone was bitter.

 

“We can’t turn around and go back,” Steve said, glancing out his window.

 

“Oh yeah, why not? That’s what I thought we were going to do until Nat tells me you idiots think there’s some sort of Garden of Eden-“

 

“I told you, Clint,” Natasha cut him off, but her voice remained light. “Our place was overrun. An entire…herd of them just swarmed us. We were lucky to get out alive.”

 

“They could be gone now,” Clint said. “There wasn’t anyone left. They might have wandered off when they realized there wasn’t any food for them.”

 

“Well if New York’s a bust, you can always turn around and go back,” Steve replied, still watching the world rush by outside his window.

 

“What do you mean _you?”_ Clint asked, raising a brow. “So you’re not coming?”

 

“You weren’t around when Steve joined up, but he’s splitting off when we get to New York.” Natasha was watching them in the rear view mirror. “He’s got some personal business to sort out. Although, he should know he’s more than welcome to stick around with us.”

 

“Is he?” Clint gave her reflection a surprised look, and she smirked back teasingly.

 

She didn’t have a chance to reply because out of nowhere, a loud _smack_ interrupted her from Thor’s side of the car. Tony jerked awaked in the front seat and Thor straightened up. There was a dark red, almost black, splotch on the window. “What the-“ Tony mumbled sleepily from the front seat.

 

Clint and Steve both craned their necks around to look out the back window. There was a limp body lying in the shoulder lane and as they sped away, the corpse struggled to its feet and began limping after the car. “Christ. It just threw itself against the car. Idiot.” Clint muttered under his breath and turned back to face the front.

 

Thor fidgeted in his seat and blinked heavily, still watching the struggling body on the side of the road. “You alright?” Steve asked, noticing his behavior. Thor hadn’t been interested in much during the past few hours. Steve silently hoped this was a sign he was getting better.

 

When Thor looked back at him, Steve’s heart dropped once more. There was a heavy sadness behind Thor’s crystalline eyes. “I am fine.” He most certainly was not, but Steve wasn’t about to interrogate him about it.

 

* * *

 

An hour passed and they found themselves on an empty four-lane road, barreling down on the city. The buildings rose up like rigid tendrils of a giant anemone. On the other side of the road, the empty carcasses of rusted out cars were miming a traffic jam. Their empty windows flickered past and sent a chill down Steve’s spine. Clearly, there had been a mad rush to get out of the city. The foundations of the hope he had spent the entire trip building up were beginning to shake. _There is no colony here,_ a voice hissed in the back of his mind. _Doesn’t matter. I’m not hanging around._ Steve wondered when he became so cold.

 

“Hey, Tony,” Natasha said from the front seat. She reached over to shake him awake. “Tony, I need you to tell me where to go.”

 

Tony jerked awake and blinked forcefully at the shadow of the approaching city. “Wow,” he whispered under his breath.

 

“Where the hell am I supposed to go from here?” Natasha asked, her eyes still scanning the area around them. “You’d think they’d put up signs or something. It’s not like the zombies can _read_.”

 

Tony had straightened up in his seat and was squinting out of the windshield. “Stay on this road for now.”

 

They were soon swallowed by the city and found themselves surrounded by concrete and glass walls. Many of the windows were boarded up or simply reduced to shards. The sound of their engine seemed to be swallowed by the silence around them. Most unsettling of all was Tony’s silence from the front seat.

 

“Turn right up ahead,” he said suddenly as Natasha wove through cars parked in the middle of the road. She obeyed and they drove that way for a while. The complete silence was only punctured by Tony’s sudden directions.

 

“Okay, left here. Oh-“

 

Steve looked up. He was subconsciously wringing his hands in his lap. The street that Natasha was supposed to be making a left at had been blocked. It appeared that a jumble of materials had been used to create a barricade including a bus that had been parked to take up the entire side-street. “Is this it?” Clint asked, leaning forward to get a better look.

 

“Yeah,” Tony replied hollowly.

 

“So what’s with the road block?” Natasha asked, glancing up and down the street.

 

“Maria Stark?” Steve’s tone was curious.

 

Tony whipped around in his seat to look at Steve, for the first time since their kiss. “What?”

 

Steve’s features pulled into a puzzled expression and he pointed at the building to the right of the barricade. Its base was made of marble and below the numbered address above the door, bold metallic letters spelled out: THE MARIA STARK CENTER FOR MEDICAL RESEARCH AND ADVANCEMENTS.

  
“That’s a mouthful.” Natasha’s voice was flat as she turned to face Tony. “Got something you want to share, _Stark_?”

 

Tony opened his mouth to speak, but he was cut off by Clint. “Watch it.” He pointed to the building. A heavy metal grate was rising up to reveal glass front doors. One of the doors swung open to reveal a man with a head of heavy dark curls.

 

Tony ignored Clint’s admonishment and instead threw open his door, ripped off his seatbelt, and leapt from the van. “Tony!” Natasha cried, undoing her own seat belt. As she climbed out of the van, Clint swore under his breath and unclasped his seat belt. Steve followed suit, deciding that Clint was going to get out of the van by any means necessary and he was better off not getting in the way. He clambered out just as Clint did.

 

“Nat!” Clint hissed, jogging after her.

 

The scene in front of Steve seemed distant and unbelievable. Tony had wrapped both of his arms around the stranger and buried his face in the stranger’s hair. The gentle shake of his shoulders told Steve he was sobbing. Steve made his way over slowly, not really wanting to interrupt the moment.

 

“Tony!” The man’s voice was muffled by Tony’s chest. “I thought- I –you were-“

 

Tony shushed him gently and swept a hand through his hair. Steve glanced over to Natasha and Clint expecting at least one of them to be furious. Instead, Natasha was wearing an expression he couldn’t quite name and her hand had quietly found Clint’s. Steve’s stomach coiled into unpleasant knots.

 

The man pulled away from Tony and smiled widely up at him. His dark eyes were bright with tears. “There’s so much to say, but we’ve got to get inside.” He checked his watch and his eyes widened and he looked up and down the street. “Quickly.”

 

“Well, some colony.” Clint’s voice was icy.

 

“Colony?” The man spoke as though he’d never heard the word before. “What does he mean?”

 

“Later,” Tony mumbled. “Come on, let’s get the shit out of the car.” He addressed the rest of the group.

 

“Nah, we’re going home.” Clint was already making his way back to the van.

 

“Well whatever you do, I would suggest hurrying,” the stranger said. His voice was full of concern.

 

“Yeah? Why’s that?” Clint countered, clearly struggling to keep his cool.

 

“The streets aren’t safe after dark.”

 

“Well, all the more reason to get going,” Clint replied, quickening his pace back to the van.

 

At that moment, the back door swung open and Thor poured out. He crouched on the ground retching violently. Steve ran over and as he got closer, he was met with the thick smell of blood and stomach acid. He reached down to pull Thor’s hair back from his face. “It’s okay,” he mumbled. “Let it out.” Thor didn’t need encouragement. The liquid pouring out of his mouth was sickeningly dark, and Steve was reminded horribly of the stuff that came out of the zombies.

 

“What’s wrong with your friend?” Steve turned around to see the rest of the group crowded around him. It was the stranger that spoke.

 

“Bit,” Natasha replied simply.

 

“Bit?” the man repeated. “As in-“

 

“One of those… _things_ took a great big bite outta him. Yeah. Steve he’s not looking so good.”

 

“He’s fine,” Steve hissed, turning his attention back to Thor who was now trembling. The vomiting had thankfully subsided.

 

“He is right,” Thor replied in a quiet voice. “I hope you remember the promise you made me.”

 

“Not yet. You still have time to live, okay? You don’t have to die yet.” Steve said softly, rubbing a hand across Thor’s shoulders. “Hang in there.”

 

“You know, we _have_ been working on something,” the stranger said and Steve found himself wanting to punch him. _Just stop talking, please!_ “It’s very experimental, but it might help your friend here.”

 

“What like a cure?” Clint raised a brow at the guy.

 

“Yes. Like a cure.”

 

* * *

 

 

After a short debate about staying or going and offering Thor up as an experimental guinea pig or not, the group found themselves unloading the back of the van. Steve and the man assisted Thor into the building while the others unpacked. Thor wasn’t able to take very large steps, and relied heavily on their support. “I’m sorry we didn’t get properly introduced,” the man spoke quietly. Their shoes squeaked against the tiled floor and Steve realized with a jolt that the building appeared to have full electricity. The air was about ten degrees cooler and fluorescent lights sparkled in their fixtures. “My name is Doctor Bruce Banner.”

 

“Steve Rogers,” he replied with a nod. “And this is Thor,” he added quickly.

 

Bruce appeared to notice Steve’s wandering eyes. “The building is completely solar powered,” he offered. “The only one in the city.”

 

“How have you all been surviving in here?” Steve asked as they approached the elevator.

 

“Tony,” Bruce began uncertainly. “Well, I’m not sure if he knew something like this was going to happen or if he was just being eccentric, but he made sure to design the building so that, under emergency circumstances, nothing could get in. He also made sure we’d get a supply of fresh water and we have food stores to get one hundred people through two years.”

 

“There’s one hundred people in here?” Steve asked as the elevator dinged and the silver doors slid open.

 

“Well, no,” Bruce replied. “Most wanted to go home to their families once everything started happening. There’s five of us left.”

 

The elevator rolled up soundlessly and when they reached the tenth floor it _ding_ ed. The doors slid open to reveal a hallway of labs. The walls facing the hall were made entirely of glass and Steve peered in curiously. Various machines in all shapes and sizes whirred quietly within. “These labs have all been vacant since the outbreak,” Bruce said nervously, clearly unused to playing tour guide. “We’re going for the one at the end of the hall.

 

As they dragged Thor over, the glass door swung open to reveal a woman whose silky dark hair was pulled into a high ponytail. Her lab coat was draped over her shoulders and she frowned at Bruce. “Who are they?” she asked.

 

Steve introduced the pair of them for the second time that day as he helped Thor into the lab. “Helen,” Bruce began, “We’ve finally got the specimen we’ve been looking for.”

 

Steve turned on them, an anger boiling up inside of him. “His name is Thor, and he’s _not_ a specimen.”

 

“Figure of speech,” Bruce replied.

 

“So, he’s been bitten?” Helen moved forward and she helped Steve lift Thor onto an examination table in the back of the room. He slumped against the wall and his legs hung limply over the side. “How long ago?”

 

“Couple days,” Steve replied, his voice saturated with concern. “You can still help him, right?”

 

“We haven’t had a case this advanced before,” she admitted in a guilty voice. “But the antidote should work. It just might take a while.”

 

“As long as he lives, I don’t think he’ll care about how long takes.”

Thor’s breathing was shallow as Helen took his vitals. “I should probably go help everyone else settle in,” Bruce said. “Do you want to stay with him?”

 

Steve nodded and Bruce turned to leave the room. “Blood pressure and heart rate are low. Respirations are too frequent. And, temperature seems to be slowly rising.” Helen’s voice was grave. “It’s a good thing you found us. Another couple of hours and-“ She stopped, suddenly deciding the sentence didn’t need to be finished. Instead, she made her way over to one of the lab benches where a series of test tubes glittered in their rack.

 

“You said you’ve tested the cure before?” Steve asked, mostly to make conversation. He hadn’t taken his eyes off Thor who looked like he was straddling the line between life and death. He was awfully pale and his forehead gleamed with a thin sheen of sweat.

 

“Yes,” Helen replied quietly. “On one of our own. It was only an hour after the bite.”

 

“And they lived?”

 

“Yes. She is in perfect health now.” She drew up a clear solution into a syringe. She tapped away a couple of persistent air bubbles before capping the needle and setting it down on a silver tray. She retrieved an alcohol swab from one of the drawers under the bench and made her way over to Thor. After cleansing the injection site at the crook of his elbow, she uncapped the needle and slipped it into his skin. She slowly pressed down on the stopper until the syringe completely emptied into Thor’s arm.

 

He stirred, but did not show any visible signs of recovery. “It’s going to take a few doses,” she said. “For now he should rest.” She and Steve helped Thor into a supine position on the examination table, and to Steve’s surprise, she bent down to retrieve cuffs from underneath.

 

“What are those for?” he asked, eyeing the padded cuffs in her hands. They were attached to the underside of the table and gave Steve an uncomfortable feeling.

 

“If we are unsuccessful,” she started in a gentle voice. “It will be best if he is restrained.”

 

Steve was going to argue, but he decided she was probably right. Once Thor was secured to the table, Steve looked at her. “Thank you,” he said meaningfully.

 

She smiled back at him but said nothing.

 

* * *

 

The evening found Steve at a large window at the very top of the building, watching the dark city below him. He had wanted to leave right after Thor had been injected, but on his way out he had run into Tony.

 

_“Where ya going big guy?”_

_“I told you I was heading off once we got to New York,” Steve replied stiffly as he sorted through their baggage for his belongings._

_“It’ll be dark soon.”_

_“I’ll be quick.” Steve retrieved a familiar rucksack from the pile. He was going to swing it over his shoulder when a strong hand found his arm._

_“You’re making a mistake.”_

_Steve rounded on Tony, the anger he had been trying to keep at bay was bubbling to the surface. “Truthfully? I don’t really care. I would much rather be out there with a bunch of zombies and nothing but the shirt on my back than with you in here with every modern comfort I can imagine.”_

_Tony’s eyes narrowed and he jabbed Steve sharply in the chest with his index finger. “Hey, **you** kissed **me**!”_

_“And you didn’t stop me!” Steve replied loudly. He was frustrated because he wanted to leave and because Tony was making that difficult because Tony made every single thing difficult. “And I was stupid enough to think that you wanted me. I won’t make the same mistake twice.” He moved to step around Tony, but Tony edged into his path._

_“How can you think I don’t want you?”_

_“You’ve got your sweet heart Br-“_

_“That doesn’t mean that I didn’t want you,” Tony said seriously._

_“So, I was a filler. Something to pass the time while you got back to your real life. I get it.”_

_“That’s not it at –“_

_“I only did it to get a reaction out of you, anyway.” Steve’s voice had returned to normal volume, but it was now cold and distant. “It didn’t mean anything.”_

_“Nah.” Tony’s voice was light and playful and it **irked** Steve because how dare he act so jovial when Steve was trying to **hurt** him?_

_“What you think-“_

_“ **I** thing that you’re a lot of things, Steve,” Tony interrupted him in a low voice. “You’re brave and you’re selfless and you’ve got a lot of heart. So I know you wouldn’t do something that malicious.”_

_“You’re unbelievable.” Steve rolled his eyes._

_“So I’ve been told.” Tony folded his arms over his chest. “You can take off tomorrow morning, okay? Just hang out for tonight.”_

“Dinner’s ready,” a familiar voice pulled him out of the past and he turned around to find Natasha standing in the doorway. He nodded and continued to gaze out of the window. She moved to stand next to him. “This is all pretty wild, huh?”

 

“What part?” Steve asked dully. “The fact that this building exists? The fact that they’ve got a cure? Or the fact that Tony thought it would be cool to build himself a multi-level penthouse apartment at the top of the building?”

 

“That last one,” Natasha replied. “Have you showered yet? They have actual hot water. I’m impressed.”

 

“I’ll put it on my to-do list.”

 

“Good, cus you know I didn’t wanna say anything but-“ She let out a low whistle and waved a hand in front of her face.

 

“Shut up,” Steve replied with a laugh.

 

“You wanna talk about it?” Natasha asked.

 

“Not really.”

 

“Okay, cool. Come get some dinner.” She gave the request like an order and Steve followed her from the room.

 

They dined in Tony’s penthouse at a long table. Tony sat at the head of the table with Bruce to his right. On his other side sat Helen, followed by Natasha and Clint. Steve sat at the other end of the table facing Tony. He didn’t recognize the woman to his right, nor the man next to her. An extravagant feast sat on the table before them. They had mashed potatoes and gravy, a bowl of corn, a bowl of beans, and a simmering pot of soup. “Everything came out of a can,” Helen said apologetically. “The potatoes were boxed.”

 

“It looks good enough to eat,” the woman beside Steve joked, picking up her plate and helping herself to some potatoes. The first few minutes were dedicated to everyone getting a helping of whatever they wanted and Steve couldn’t remember the last time he had seen a meal so appetizing. They ate in silence for a few moments before Clint spoke. “So-uh, not to be rude, but who are you people?”

 

“Just a rag-tag group of scientists,” Tony replied around a mouthful of potatoes. He used his fork to point to Helen. “Doctor Helen Cho. Making real leaps and bounds in experimental medicine.” He pointed to the woman next to Steve. “That’s Jan Van Dyne, her father worked here.”

 

“Where is he now?” Clint asked, and Natasha shot him a look that he didn’t pick up on.

 

“He died,” Janet replied. “We didn’t always have a working cure, you know.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Clint offered genuinely.

 

Without pausing, Tony pointed at the man sitting next to her. “That’s Doctor Hank Pym.  Engineering.”

 

Hank nodded but didn’t say anything. Tony clapped a hand on Bruce’s shoulder. “And you all know this is Bruce. His specialty is being good at everything.”

 

Bruce looked down at his plate, smiling nervously. “Yeah- thanks Tony.”

 

“Okay, now tuck in!” Tony gestured to everyone’s plates and continued to stuff his face.

  
“I’ll need to run down to the labs before I go to bed,” Helen remarked casually.

 

“Can it wait until morning?” Bruce asked nervously.

 

“No,” she replied shortly. “The patient-“ she glanced over to Steve. “-Thor. He needs a dose of antidote every six hours.”

 

“That puts us at risk,” Hank shot across the table.

 

“ _He_ will be at risk if I don’t give him his shot,” Helen replied, maintaining her composure.

 

“So…why are we at risk?” Clint asked, sweeping over the table with a confused look.

 

“We don’t keep the power running for anything other than the penthouse after dark,” Hank replied as though he were explaining a simple concept to a child. “If we turn on the lights too close to the ground we risk attracting unwanted attention of the undead sort.”

 

“The lab’s ten stories up,” Steve interjected.

 

“Well, it doesn’t matter, anyway. I was only letting everyone know out of courtesy.” Helen continued to polish off her dinner and Hank shot a scathing look at her.

 

“I’ll make sure the power’s up and running for you,” Tony said politely.

 

“So what’s with the barricade?” Natasha asked, quickly changing the subject.

 

“A lot of things.” It was Janet who replied. “Mostly because _unwelcome visitors_ were getting too comfortable hanging out in the alley next door. But, it also makes for a great escape route if this place ever gets overrun. We all just run out there and get into the building next door. Plus, being indoors all day isn’t great for the spirit. It’s just nice to get out and move sometimes-without having to worry about becoming someone’s meal.”

 

As they finished up, Janet quickly scooped up the remaining food onto a fresh plate. “I’m going to microwave this and take it up to Jane,” she said quickly. “She’s still up top right?”

 

“Probably,” Bruce replied.

 

“An entire apocalypse hasn’t stopped that woman from stargazing,” Tony muttered under his breath.

 

“It’s a bit more complicated than star gazing,” Bruce said, stacking his empty plate on top of Tony’s. “She’s probably up there discovering new galaxies as we speak.”

 

* * *

 

 

Steve was exhausted by the time he settled on the couch. The penthouse had a couple of spare rooms, but Steve insisted on taking the couch. Partly because it seemed everyone had suddenly coupled up and it seemed selfish to take up a queen sized bed on his own. Partly because he was planning on slipping out early the next morning.

 

He was about to close his eyes and drift off when the kitchen light flicked on. He sat up to see Tony tip-toeing to peer into a cabinet. His pajama pants hung loosely around his waist and his cotton t-shirt riding up a bit. “Need help?” Steve asked and Tony’s head snapped to look at him.

 

“Just hoping we still had some tea left,” he replied. “I guess I’m not as lucky as I like to think.” He stood there for a moment before his posture slumped a bit. “I’m sorry about earlier. Well- I’m sorry about everything, really.”

 

It was the first time Steve had heard Tony properly apologize.

 

“I’m sorry too,” he replied. He was still angry of course and he blamed his lack of fight on the shock of Tony’s genuine apology. But, before everything got _way_ too complicated, they had shared a nice friendship. _In these times, friends are a rare commodity,_ Steve thought.

 

“Thanks,” Tony murmured before closing the cabinet. “Goodnight.” The kitchen light flicked off and the room disappeared into darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All you Thor fans: See I'm not completely heartless!!  
> All you Clintasha fans: ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)  
> All you Science Bros fans: ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really, really sorry that it literally took 2 months for me to update. I got caught up in school. But here you have it! The fic itself is coming to a close soon and I just want to thank everyone who has been sticking it out and giving this fic kudos and comments. You guys really keep me motivated and I'm sorry again that you have to wait so long for updates.

Steve was delirious for the first few moments after waking up. His back muscles were tied up into several different knots and his knee joints were a little stiff. He sat up to stretch and it took him a moment to register where he was. The sun was gleaming through the large windows, filling the room with a soft, rosy light.

Slowly, he remembered where he was. After getting to his feet, he made his way over to the kitchen. Searching the cabinets proved to be almost a waste of time. The only things he was able to find were a couple of cans of vegetables and a handful of cans of soup. At one point he considered making instant mashed potatoes. Luckily he found an opened box of cereal in one of the lower shelves. The expiration date was for last month (or so he figured. It was difficult to keep track of time). He poured himself a bowl, and for a moment he wondered if there was any milk lying around. Figuring that milk was a luxury of the past, he began to eat his cereal dry

“Morning.” A quiet voice from behind him made him jump and he had to remind himself that Tony’s tower was basically impenetrable. He turned to find that Doctor Cho had entered the room, already dressed for the day.

“Good morning,” he replied. She edged past him to rummage through one of the cabinets before producing a bag of coffee.

“I always end up making too much. Please help yourself to a cup,” she said as she measured out the black powder into the top of the machine.

“Thank you,” Steve replied. “How’s Thor doing?”

She smiled. “Like I said, it was really fortunate that you got him to us yesterday. I think another day and he would be-“ she cleared her throat quickly. “The progress he’s made in the short amount of time he’s been here has been remarkable. He’s awake, if you’d like to go down and see him.”

“That would be great!” Steve said. Part of him soured with guilt as he remembered that this may be the last time he would be able to see his friend. Don’t think like that. He ate a couple more spoonfuls of cereal, the smell of brewing coffee was beginning to wake him up a bit more. 

There was silence between them as Steve finished up his cereal and the coffee finished brewing. She poured herself a cup and nodded to him. “See you in a bit, then.”

 

Steve slumped against the elevator wall and watched the floor numbers tick by on the small LED monitor. Finally, the doors slid open to reveal a long hallway and he got out. He hadn’t properly examined the hallway when they first arrived as he had been preoccupied with Thor. But, now he was able to really appreciate how much work had probably been done here before the infection. Some of the labs lining the hallway had their shades drawn, while others were simply dark. The vague whirr of machinery was still present. He began to walk, his footsteps echoing ominously against the linoleum. 

He passed one dark lab, whose door stood ajar, when he heard movement. He paused, listening hard. There was another sound, like metal straining under weight. The stuff in there is probably just settling. Like an old house in the middle of the night.

The sound of a soft grunt expelled the rationalities from his brain. He crept toward the doorway, his hand outstretched, and pushed the metal door open further. He squinted into the room, his eyes struggling to adjust from the harsh fluorescent lights outside. Suddenly, with a quiet clicking sound, the lights flickered to life. Probably motion sensors, he assumed.

He took an involuntary step backward as his eyes fell upon the sight in front of him. Before him, two of the mindless corpses were struggling against bonds holding them to two separate examination tables. He edged forward to the closer one. It had been a woman, by the looks of it. Rather young. Maybe early twenties. Her t-shirt and jeans were torn and soiled and she was so thin that her bones pressed against her skin at sickening angles.

She growled angrily as he approached, her mouth hanging open to expose her rotting teeth. Why? What’s going on here? Who-

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” the sudden voice made him recoil quickly. He glanced over to the door to find Hank standing there with a mug in his right hand and a clipboard tucked under his left arm.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Steve countered lamely.

Hank pressed his lips together briefly, but to Steve’s surprise, he replied. “I’m doing important work.” He spoke quickly as he set his coffee and clipboard down on a nearby workbench.

“Yeah…I can see that,” Steve replied, nervously eyeing the struggling corpse next to him. “Do the others know?”

“Of course they do.” Hank pulled on a pair of latex gloves as he spoke. “You don’t think I smuggled two of them in here without anyone noticing do you?”

“I guess not.”

Hank stepped toward the other one. He looked like he had been a guy in his forties. He appeared to be in a greater state of decay than the girl. One of his eye sockets was completely empty and it appeared that he had a compound fracture of his left arm. The yellowing shard of bone stuck out from his graying skin and jerked sickeningly as he moved. “I’ve been trying to create a machine,” he explained, lifting the lid of the man’s good eye and pulling a penlight from his pocket. “A machine to reverse the cranial damage. I believe that subjects such as these can be rehabilitated.”

“But they’re dead,” Steve replied, more curious than anything now.

“They’re dead, but their nervous systems are clearly functioning. At a more rudimentary level than ours are, obviously. But functioning all the same.” He clicked the light off and stepped back as the man lurched forward to snap his yellowing teeth at him. “For example, this gentleman’s pupils still react to light. If his central nervous system wasn’t working properly, we wouldn’t see a change.”

“So you’re going to try and bring them back to life? Isn’t that what Doctor Cho is working on?”

“Doctor Cho is working on a cure for the disease that kills individuals,” Hank explained briskly as he made his way over to the struggling girl. “But, once the disease kills them, they become-“ he gestured to the corpse in front of him. “So, that’s where I come in. I can’t reverse the necrosis that occurs, but I think that I might be able to reactivate the parts of the brain that aren’t functional.”

“So you’re going to make them…sentient?”

“That’s a way to put it,” Hank replied, checking the girl’s pupillary reflex. “So far, nothing yet.”

“Isn’t that a little horrifying? I mean to wake up, so to speak, and find your body in this state of permanent decay?” Steve asked.

Hank’s eyebrows knitted together and he clicked his penlight off and shoved it into his pocket. “Did you come down here to pester me, or do you have other business?”

“Sorry,” Steve replied shortly. “I was on my way to Doctor Cho’s lab when I heard noises coming from in here.”

“Well, then I think you’d better head over there.” Hank answered shortly. “I hear your friend is recovering nicely.”

Steve muttered a quick good bye before he hurried from the room. The heavy metal door slammed behind him and the shades were quickly drawn over the windows. He continued down the hall toward the lab.

 

Thor was sipping contently from a glass of orange juice when Steve entered the room. Helen was seated at a workbench, reading data from a large flat-screen monitor. She smiled at him when he entered. 

“Steven!” Thor said jovially. His voice was nearly back to its usual thunderous volume, but he wasn’t using his usual arm gestures.

“How are you feeling?” Steve asked, grinning.

“I am in near perfect health,” Thor replied. “That was, as they say, a close one.”

Steve laughed and pulled up a metal chair and took a seat next to the examination table. “Did you sleep alright?”

Thor nodded. “I was exhausted. I am feeling much better.”

“You still have viral components swimming around in your bloodstream,” Helen added from behind the monitor. “They’re going to trigger your immune system, which we’re trying to build up, hence the orange juice. But, the serum we’ve been giving you seems to be killing them off pretty well.”

“Thank you.” Thor beamed at her. He turned his attention back to Steve. “I assumed you would have been gone by now.”

Steve shrugged before looking down at his hands. “I got a late start this morning. I figured one more day wouldn’t hurt.”

“Festivities are in order for your departure, then!” Thor grinned widely.

“That can be arranged.” Helen smiled at the two of them.

 

Word spread quickly throughout the tower and by sundown Steve found himself on the rooftop with everyone else. As it would turn out, Tony had insured that a stocked wine cellar was included in his food supply. Hors d'oeuvres were served on a series of plates arranged on one of the wire patio tables. (Tony had apparently been saving a couple of cans of Caviar and they were served with saltine crackers).

The first thing Steve noticed upon getting up there was the large electronic telescope pointing up toward the night sky like a glassy, unseeing eye. Jane, whose name had only been mentioned the night before, joined the party. Even Thor had slowly made his way up from Helen’s lab. He was seated on one of the chairs and involved in a deep conversation with Jane.

Steve found his way over to the edge of the roof and he looked out at the dark city below, spread out like the depths of the ocean. He was already on his second glass of wine. Nat had made her way over and raised a brow at him. “So you’re leaving, then. For real.”

Steve nodded. 

“Gonna find your friend?” 

“Hopefully,” Steve replied.

“You don’t sound so sure,” Natasha pressed.

Steve laughed humorlessly. “Honestly,” he began, “It was easy to be brave when this was all some future plan. I didn’t even know if I was going to make it this far, you know?”

“Yeah,” she replied. “And now you’re getting cold feet?”

He shook his head. “I want to see him. More than anything. It’s just that now I’ve got to deal with the fact that he might not be there.”

“You know, this guy once told me to have faith. He pushed me out of my comfort zone and I really, really owe him for that.”

“You’re welcome,” Steve replied.

“Hey, I didn’t say it was you,” Natasha teased. They both laughed. “But, seriously. You’ve helped us all find each other. You’ve made so many people happy by just talking sense into us. Now it’s your turn. Go do what you set out to do in the first place.”

“Yeah.” Steve looked down at his drink. “I’ll miss you guys.”

Nat laughed. “Stop being so dramatic. We’ll see you again soon.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Jesus, for such a cynical guy you sure preached a lot about having faith.”

They laughed and Steve finished the rest of his drink. 

Steve, Nat, Clint, and Tony had all played a drinking game with flimsy rules that basically had them all finishing their glasses of wine obscenely fast. Natasha drank them all under the table. Hank retired early while Jan jumped into the last round of their game. Jane had helped Thor back down to the lab, and neither returned. Bruce was the next to retire, followed by Helen. Finally Clint declared it was time for bed and Natasha argued that she was good for at least another two or three drinks. (Clint won out and the two went to bed)

Jan had insisted on helping with the cleanup, but she was barely able to hoist herself up out of her seat and Tony insisted that she sleep it off. She stumbled off to the elevator and left Tony and Steve alone on the roof.

“So, you’re leaving tomorrow?” Tony asked, scooping up three glasses in one hand.

“Yeah.” Steve was getting tired of talking about it.

“Excited? Nervous?” 

“A little bit of both,” Steve answered truthfully.

“Are you thinking about coming back?” Tony asked. The expression on his face was unreadable.

“Not sure.”

“Well, in that case-“ Tony set down the glasses with a light clink and looked at Steve squarely. “-Can I just- right a wrong.”

“What wrong do you think you have to right?” Steve asked, struggling to focus on Tony’s face.

“Well,” Tony fumbled his words for a moment. “It would be a Goddamn shame if the only kiss you’ve got from me was the one we had in the woods.”

Steve couldn’t help it. He burst out with laughter.

“It was just that you caught me completely off guard. I wasn’t ready and my technique really suffered because of that.”

Overtaken by confidence, Steve leaned forward to close the short gap between them and placed a single kiss at the corner of Tony’s mouth. “See you around, Tony.”

“Yeah,” Tony breathed. “See ya.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking so long with this update guys!! Again, I've been so swamped with school.
> 
> Enjoy!

How long had he been walking? The city was days behind him and now only the two lane road wound ahead of him. So far, he had been fortunate enough to find himself alone. His only company were the trees on either side of the road. There were more leaves on the ground than on their branches and Steve vaguely wondered what day it was.

The trees thinned as he walked and they were replaced by empty fields. It was apparent that something used to grow in the now empty soil. The sight saddened him for some reason. Off in the distance, the shell of an empty farm house seemed to sprout from the ground. Another building, much closer to the road was on his right. He recognized it as a gas station that appeared to have been out of use even before the plague hit.

As he passed, he glanced over and noticed a truck parked out front. The truck as pretty new, probably only five years old at most. Strange. He hoped there weren’t any raiders skulking around. There might be food or supplies, he thought to himself, especially if there was someone squatting here. They might not have left, another part of his brain said. In any case, his stomach was completely empty and he had already gone through what little food he had taken from the tower. Briefly, his mind wandered back to the meals at the tower. There had been a variety of food. There had been meat and vegetables.

He strode over to the front of the building, past the vacant gas pumps. The windows were covered in a thick layer of dust and he squinted into them. The interior was difficult to make out. He recognized the shape of shelves, some standing, some tipped over onto the floor. There didn’t seem to be anyone inside.

He cautiously pushed open the door and a bell just above it tinkled. The sound was magnified in the stillness of the afternoon. When no one appeared, he slipped inside and the door shut behind him with a dull thud. He stepped around the fallen shelves cautiously, but found that the place had been completely cleared out. Not a single bag of chips or can of soup seemed to be around. The shelves behind the counter had also been cleared out. He wondered if this had happened recently or whether the building had been empty for longer than that.

If the gas station had gone out of business, the front door wouldn’t have been open like that, he realized suddenly.

At that moment, the bell tinkled again and he whipped around. The man in the doorway was holding a shotgun up defensively. The stranger was looking at him with glinting dark eyes. “Who the hell are you?”

“Sorry,” Steve began quickly, holding his hands up. “I didn’t know anyone was staying here.”

“Yeah, well unfortunately there is,” the stranger replied. 

“I’ll get out of your hair, then.” Steve edged toward the door with his hands still raised.

“Better hurry up. They go crazy after dark.”

“Oh, yeah,” Steve replied. “I know.” Steve thought about trudging through the dark countryside with rabid zombies chasing after him. “Say, I know it isn’t much, but I’ve got quite a bit of supplies. Maybe we can come to a sort of agreement.” He eyed the truck parked outside. 

The stranger followed his gaze and laughed humorlessly. “Sounds fun, but the whole reason I pulled up to this damn place was because she was running on fumes.”

Steve’s heart fell briefly. “Oh. Sorry about that.”

“Say, you got anything for a cut?” the stranger asked, lowering his weapon. 

“Are we talking a paper cut?” Steve hoped his joke would land. Luckily the stranger laughed.

“I wish,” he replied. “I triggered some ass hole’s hunting trap a couple of days ago and hurt my arm pretty bad.”

Steve’s stomach twisted. “You got anything to eat?”

“Dead rabbit in the bag. Is this a trade?” 

“Sounds like it.”

As it turned out, Sam was living in the back room of the gas station. There was a beat up couch, desk, and office chair set up. There was a small window on the far wall which had been obviously cleaned. The whole place had a somewhat lived in feeling. There was a suitcase opened up on the desk and there were some clothes scattered about or draped over furniture. It seemed that the stranger had taken to building a fire in the middle of the room as the floor was covered in soot and a pathetic pile of burnt out logs was stacked there. Against the far wall was a small pile of fresh logs. A faded calendar hung crookedly from the wall. August 12th was circled.  
“What’s special about August 12th?” Steve asked.

“Judging by the body I found when I got here,” he began, “I think it’s when the old man who used to run this place offed himself.”

“Makes sense,” Steve began. “That’s almost when all this stuff started happening.”

“A little morbid,” the stranger remarked, setting his bag down on the floor and propping his shotgun up by the couch. 

“A lot morbid,” Steve agreed. He shrugged off his own backpack. The stranger scooped the suitcase up off the desk and set it on the floor underneath. 

“Let’s see what you got.” He seemed to notice Steve’s hesitation. “Or we could eat first. I’m not trying to rip you off or anything.”

“Oh! I didn’t think-“

“It’s bad manners anyway I guess. I’m not being much of a courteous host.” He made his way past Steve to build up a log fire. Ten minutes later, the fire was going and he pulled the dead rabbit out from his pack. He took a seat on the floor around the fire and Steve followed suit. After skinning and cleaning the rabbit, he skewered it with what appeared to be a fireplace poker and held it over the flames. 

“My name’s Sam, by the way.”

Steve smiled, “Steve.”

Sam offered him his free hand and Steve shook it. “So, what are you doing wandering around out there?”

Steve didn’t know where to even begin. “It’s a long story.”

“Got it,” Sam replied. “Didn’t mean to pry. Just trying to start a conversation.”

“There’s just a lot that’s happened in the past couple of months,” Steve replied.

“Well, I guess starting at the beginning is always a smart thing to do. I was in the business of search and rescue.”

“Wow, and here I thought I was going to have the interesting background,” Steve joked.

“Let me guess,” Sam grinned at him, “Male model?”

Steve laughed. “Not even close.”

“Damn it. It was pro wrestler wasn’t it? I was gonna say that.”

“Nah, I was just a military guy,” Steve replied.

“Well it seems like we’ve been pretty prepared for something like this to happen,” Sam remarked.

“Yeah,” Steve replied. He hadn’t really thought of it like that. “Have you been alone since the beginning of this thing?”

“Nah. I had a bunch of people I ran around with in the beginning but they were always arguing. They never could agree on anything. Finally, I got so fed up one day that I just packed my shit into my truck and left.”

Steve nodded. “I had a group in the beginning, but we got separated. I’m looking for one of them now. He was-“ Steve paused, reminiscing about Bucky always gave him a sense of hollow pain. And now he wondered how he could even describe Bucky to this stranger “-my best friend. Even before this all happened. Ever since we were kids.”

“Man, I’m so sorry,” Sam replied. “How are you trying to find him?”

“We had a met up spot. In case we ever got separated. This ritzy distant family member of his owned a farmhouse about a day’s walk from here.”

“I wish you all the luck,” Sam said, examining the rabbit on the end of the poker. “He looks pretty done. I’m pretty fancy, but I’m not silverware and plate fancy.”

“I’m honestly just thankful for the hot meal,” Steve said sincerely.

The two ate in silence until the only thing left were the bones. Steve cleared away the logs and Sam cleaned up the rabbit remains. “Okay,” Sam said, straightening up once the room was back to its natural state. “Time to hold up your end of the deal.”

Steve produced a roll of bandages and some industrial tape from his bag while Sam sat behind the desk and propped his leg up. He rolled up his pants leg to reveal a sloppy wrapping of what appeared to be torn cloth. He gingerly unwound the cloth to reveal a deep gash running from his ankle and around the back of his leg almost to his knee.

Steve let out a low whistle. “That trap sure did a number on you.”

“I had a couple of those dead things on my tail. I wasn’t exactly watching where I was going.”

“Yeah, likely story.” Steve examined the wound further.

“It’s infected. I know,” Sam said, looking up at him. “It’s probably a lost cause, but covering it up makes it hurt a little less or something.”

“You don’t have to explain. A deal’s a deal.” He handed over the bandage and tape and Sam unwound it and began wrapping the wound. “Hey, I’m not sure what your setup is like here-“

“You’re looking at it,” Sam replied without looking up.

“Well, there’s a group of survivors in the city,” Steve began slowly. He didn’t really know this guy too well, but from what he saw he didn’t think he was a bad person. He was honest and seemed trust worthy. In any case, the gash on his leg didn’t look too good. It was enflamed and didn’t seem to be healing right. A wound like that meant he probably wouldn’t last too much longer out here alone. “They’ve got scientists and doctors and hot water and electricity and food and water and all that stuff.”

“I had a guy in the old group I was in,” Sam began, “He was always going on about how the U.S. was the only country dealing with this shit and if we went south we could escape into Mexico. Which for some reason has not been affected by this zombie shit. Even though they’re our next door neighbors. They’re fine. I mean at least according to this guy.”

“Did you believe it?” Steve asked.

Sam snorted. “Of course not. And, no offense, your New York City story kinda sounds like that.”

“I was just there,” Steve assured him. “It’s completely legit.”

Sam eyed him briefly. “You must really care about your friend if you were willing to leave behind all that luxury.” He taped the bandage and handed the remaining supplies back to Steve. “Tell you what,” he began, “I’ve got years of experience finding people. I help you find your friend and you can repay me by taking me to this magical wonderland you’re talking about.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Steve replied, grinning. The remaining journey seemed less daunting now.

“I’ll pack up in the morning and we can go,” Sam said, stifling a yawn. “I’ve got a sleeping bag packed up in my trunk if you don’t mind sleeping on the floor tonight.”

“Sounds great,” Steve replied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly expected this to be the last chapter but I just got so carried away with the precious cinnamon roll that is Sam Wilson so sorry about that you guys!! We're almost at the finish line :)


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know how I said this was going to be the last chapter? ...well I lied

“You all right man?” Sam’s voice snapped Steve out of his thoughts. They were standing at the edge of the property. The brick wall in front of them was crumbling and strands of ivy were starting to snake up toward the sky. This was it. He was finally here.

Steve took a deep breath. “Yeah. I’m good.”

“It’s cool to not be,” Sam said, but he didn’t press further. Instead he made his way over to the gate that blocked their path up the drive. It was about six and a half feet tall and made of iron. The gate had been shackled shut with a rusting chain and padlock. “Security doesn’t seem to be too tight.”

Steve laughed quietly. “Yeah, the wall and stuff was just for show. They didn’t get very many visitors, let alone people trying to rob the place.”

“Interesting,” Sam replied, still eyeing the padlock. He raised the shotgun and brought the barrel down hard onto the lock. The rusted chain gave way and slithered to the ground with a delicate clank. “After you.” He pushed the gate open and stood back.

Steve took the first steps onto the property. He had been looking forward to this for months. But, somehow, he wasn’t feeling relieved. In fact he was suddenly overcome with an overwhelming feeling of dread. The property itself was empty. The once manicured lawn was now overrun with weeds that spilled out onto the driveway. As they strode forward, Steve’s feeling of dread grew.

“Hey,” Sam nudged his arm and pointed off to the right. Steve glanced over and noticed part of the wall had crumbled. Their safe zone had been breached.

“Stay sharp,” he said quietly, moving toward the house. It was an old-style two-story building with bay windows overlooking the yard. The windows were black, someone must have drawn the curtains. They climbed the steps to the porch and Steve hesitated before knocking on the front door. He was met with silence.

“Maybe no one’s home?” Sam offered weakly. Steve barely registered that he was leaning heavily against the porch railing.

Steve knocked again. “Bucky!” he called out. Still, no response. He tried the door knob and the door slid open easily.

“Maybe he knew you were coming,” Sam offered. Even with the forced optimism, he heaved himself away from the railing and held the shotgun at the ready.

The two crept inside the house, which was significantly darker than the outside. “Bucky!” Steve called again. There was a crash from upstairs. The two exchanged a glance and Sam nodded.

“I’ve got your back,” he said, nodding toward the stairs.

Steve made his way over and cringed as the first step creaked under his weight. There was more movement from upstairs. The elderly floor boards groaned as something moved above them. The two cautiously ascended to the second floor. Everything was coated with a thin layer of dust and it seemed to blanket him as well.

“Bucky?” Steve asked cautiously. He stepped into the hall and glanced into the first open door. The room was entirely empty aside from a mattress that sat askew on top of an oak bedframe and a bureau whose doors were completely open. They moved on, the second door was closed. Steve pressed it open slowly revealing a small bathroom. The shower curtain rod had fallen into the tub and the mirror was broken.

“So, there was a scuffle or something. Either that or your friend’s just messy.”

“Something happened here,” Steve said quietly. He turned around to face Sam. “We don’t know what’s in here. If you want to wait ouside-“

“First of all, I can’t risk my ticket to the Utopian colony. Second of all, if my ticket to the Utopian colony were to get injured, I don’t wanna have to carry his ass all the way to the city.”

Steve laughed quietly. “All right. Suit yourself, then.” They continued on, the dark hardwood floor creaked warningly. But, at the moment it was the only sound in the house.

Each room revealed the same scene, toppled or broken furniture. Sometimes there were dark stains on the floor or the wall. The two were silent now. The only room left to check was behind a door that had been left ajar. Steve swallowed before uttering a weak, “Bucky?”

There was shuffling beyond and the unmistakable sound of ragged breathing. He reached out to press a hand to the door and Sam grabbed his arm. “Hey, careful.” Steve glanced at him expecting to find resistance, but instead Sam’s expression was almost pained. “No one answered, you don’t know what’s in there.”

Steve nodded, and Sam let his hand drop. Steve pushed the door open and forced himself to look into the room. Someone was standing with their back to the door, facing the far wall. In the fading light from the single window in the room, Steve could make out stringy dark hair that fell down to broad shoulders. One arm was dangling at his side and Steve’s stomach twisted as he realized it ended just above the elbow.

“Bucky?” he tried once more. His voice wavered but there was still hope in it. Sam raised his gun and Steve turned to glance at him.

“Better safe than sorry, right?” Sam whispered without taking his eyes off the figure.

All of a sudden, the figure whipped around and Steve’s heart stopped. The face was familiar, but it was scarred and gaunt. The eyes that used to light up whenever he saw them were dull and milky. It was Bucky, but at the same time it wasn’t Bucky. Bucky didn’t look right through him like that. This was Bucky’s corpse.

Sam’s shouts seemed far away and suddenly everything was happening much slower than it should have. He watched as Bucky lunged for him, a thin hand outstretched. From his side, Sam forcefully forced the butt of the gun into the center of Bucky’s chest, toppling him backward.

“We gotta go!” Sam gripped Steve’s arm and tried to pull him toward the door, but Steve was rooted to the boards beneath his feet. There was nowhere to go. This was his goal. He wanted to find Bucky, and he did. This was the end. “You can’t help him!”

Sam’s words were like a slap in the face and Steve stumbled backward toward the door. Sam slammed it and a second later there was a loud thump as though Bucky had thrown his entire weight against it. Then a couple of seconds later, another thump just like the first.

“It’s not gonna hold him for long. We gotta go,” Sam pleaded.

“You’re wrong.” Steve’s brain was slowly regaining some of its processing power.

“This is an old house, Steve. Honestly we’re lucky it’s still stand-“

“Not about the door,” Steve said, turning to face him. “About helping Bucky.”

“Unless you know someone that can magically bring back the dead-“

“I do.”

Sam gaped at him for a moment. “Is this part of that heaven-on-Earth colony you told me about? So they’re playing God, too?”

“There was a guy there, he was working on a way to…fix people who had been turned.” Steve swallowed as he remembered the people he had seen strapped to the tables in Hank’s lab. When they had spoken, the cure seemed like some far-off fantasy. But, now it was Steve’s only hope.

“How are we gonna get your friend to New York? You’re basically gonna have to carry him. And, if I’m being honest, if we wait any longer you’re probably gonna have to carry me too.” For the first time, Steve noticed that the lower half of Sam’s pant leg was soaked through with blood. It was a sick shade of red against the blue denim. Suddenly, he felt guilty. He had only known Sam for a day…maybe a day and a half, but he had made him a promise. Those words seemed empty now.

“Let’s change the bandage-“

“Sorry, Steve. I already used the last of it. This is it for me. This either bleeds out or gets infected. Or both. Both seems kinda likely.”

“I’m sorry. I’m not leaving without him.”

“I get that. But, whatever you’re gonna do, you have to do it fast.”

“Alright.” Steve’s thoughts were racing. Sam was right. It wasn’t like he could just carry Bucky out of here. Also, it wasn’t like Bucky wasn’t able to walk on his own. “I need to run out back and take a look in the shed. There might be some supplies somewhere. We’ll re-bandage your leg before we get outta here.”

Sam nodded and while Steve sprinted down the stairs, he made his way over to the bathroom. The house was a blur. Memories were lingering around him. They were everywhere, coating the house like a thin layer of dust. Summers spent collecting bugs in the yard or playing tag in the sticky heat.

He raced through the kitchen and threw open the screen door into the backyard. A faded wooden shed stood a few feet ahead. The door was hanging precariously off its hinges. Without thinking, he slammed it aside, effectively tearing it completely down. It hit the ground with a thud, but the noise didn’t phase Steve at all. He was scanning the bare walls, hoping to find something. Unfortunately, someone must have beat him to it. Anything that could have been useful had been stripped from the shed. He crouched down to sift through some cardboard boxes on the ground and found a coil of hose. It would have to do.

When he returned to the second floor, Sam was sitting on the floor just outside the bathroom. He was carefully winding thin, gray strips of fabric around his leg. “Couldn’t find anything,” he explained. “So, I’m making do with a t-shirt. Tell me you’re having better luck than I am.”

Steve held up the garden hose. “I was thinking we could tie him up with this. And sort of…walk him to the city.”

“Like … a leash?” Sam clarified.

The idea made Steve a bit nauseated. “Yeah,” he replied. “Like a leash.”

“Okay, but what if he decides he wants to take a bite out of you or me?” Sam asked. Steve honestly hadn’t considered that aspect. It was weird to think that Bucky would ever want to attack him.

“Do you have … a belt? Or something?”

Sam dug through his pack and produced a dark leather belt. “Don’t lose it. It’s been in my family for generations.”

“Oh-“ Steve paused as he reached out for the belt.

“I’m joking, man. I picked this up at a yard sale.”

Steve let out a relieved laugh and accepted the belt. “Can I ask you for a favor?” he asked.

“You’re really making me work for this miracle,” Sam said, struggling to get to his feet. Steve reached out to help him up.

“Sorry. Last favor, I promise-“

“That’s a hell of a promise,” Sam interrupted. “But, go on.”

“I need you to help me get him tied up.”

 

 

Steve glanced over his shoulder and his heart sank. Sam was limping a few paces behind him, watching the ground as though he were following an invisible set of foot prints. His eyes followed the dark green hose that he clutched in his hands. About ten feet behind him, Bucky was stumbling along. The rest of the length of the hose had been wrapped around his torso, effectively pinning his arms to his sides. Sam’s belt was wrapped from the bottom of Bucky’s chin to the top of his head and secured his mouth shut. The sight caused Steve’s chest to tighten painfully. He didn’t know what made him feel worse, the fact that he had to tie his friend up like an animal or the fact that if he didn’t his friend was going to try to maul him to death.

“How are you doing?” he asked Sam who shrugged in response.

“New York’s at least another days walk. We can’t be walking around in the dark.”

“You’re right,” Steve replied, they were near the gas station that they met at. “We could stop for the night and pick up again first thing in the morning.”

“Alright,” Sam replied.

They continued on in silence. The only noises were Sam’s increasingly labored breathing and the sound of Bucky stumbling over his own feet. Finally, the gas station came into view. As they neared, Sam spoke again. “Listen, I know he’s your friend and all but we’ve gotta tie him up somewhere for the night.”

“Yeah,” Steve replied vaguely.

“The shelves in there are pretty heavy, you might wanna try using them or something.” Sam entered the gas station first and headed right to the back room. Steve tugged Bucky over to one of the shelves. It was difficult to bend the hose in the ways he wanted to, but in the end (and with a little help from his boy scout training) he managed to tie a knot. Bucky struggled forcefully against his restraints.

Steve glanced over his shoulder to ensure that Sam was out of earshot before he turned back to his friend. Bucky’s milky gray eyes were darting this way and that trying to register his face. “I’m so, so sorry about this, Buck,” Steve said quietly. “I promise I will make this right.”


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I am glad you are here with me. Here at the end of all things."

The street was eerily still. Empty concrete shells of abandoned buildings loomed on either side of the cracked asphalt. The three men had been walking for what felt like years. Their pace was sluggish and erratic as they stumbled down the numerous city blocks toward their salvation.

 

Time was going too slow and too fast all at once. Steve was supporting most of Sam’s body weight now. He kept trying to make idle small talk to keep the fading man with him. _What’s the first thing you’re gonna eat when we get there? You know they’ve got cans of almost anything you can imagine. He’s even got booze. Tony likes booze. I think you two would get along._ That was a lie, Tony wasn’t easy to get along with at all.

 

The sun had already disappeared behind the tallest buildings, leaving the streets bathed in a sickening red glow. “Be real with me,” Sam muttered at Steve’s side. “How far are we?”

 

“Not far at all!” Steve replied. He really hoped he was going the right way. It was hard to tell when the empty streets all looked the same. The sound of Bucky’s shuffling feet behind them was the only noise for a bit.

 

“Look, if I’m slowing you down-“

 

“Hey!” Steve’s voice was suddenly stern. “Don’t talk like that. We’re going to get there. All of us. They’ve got doctors-“

 

“To fix me up,” Sam finished. “Yeah, you mentioned.” His dark eyes were darting around. “It just doesn’t feel right, you know? It’s way too quiet.”

 

“We must be lucky.” Steve hoped his voice sounded more confident than he felt. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure they weren’t being followed. Bucky’s expressionless face looked even more twisted and distorted in the evening light. Steve had to look away.

 

The streets were nearly dark when they arrived at the familiar building. “So…where’s the doorbell?” Sam straightened up to get a better look.

 

That question didn’t need answering because all at once a grainy voice spoke over what appeared to be an intercom next to the heavy metal grate guarding the door. “Well, well. Didn’t think I’d be seeing your handsome face back so soon.” He recognized the teasing tone at once.

 

He laughed in relief. “Good to be back, Tony.”

 

“I can see why you wanted to find your _friend,_ Steve. He’s cute.”

 

Steve was too busy trying to find the security camera that Tony was obviously using to watch the entrance to really register what was being said.  


“Oh!” Sam began awkwardly. “I’m just an innocent bystander in all this.”

 

Steve tugged on Bucky’s makeshift harness and he stumbled closer. An audible gasp was heard over the intercom. “Christ! Steve! What the hell are you doing with that?”

 

“I told you, I was going out to find-“

 

“Yeah, but you weren’t supposed to be lugging his fucking corpse around! You’ve really lost it-“

 

“Steve’s alright!” Sam butted in. “Listen, if it wasn’t for him, I’d be dead.”

 

“Yeah, well join the club,” Tony retorted.

 

For the first time on their long journey, Bucky stirred at Steve’s side. His opaque eyes were widened and wild. He began limping away in the opposite direction. “C’mon, Buck,” Steve said softly, pulling at the lead in his hands.

 

“See! He’s not even in control of himself, Steve. Oh my God what a mess.”

 

“Steve-“ Sam murmured from his side.

 

“You have the technology to cure him in there! Did you really think I was going to let my friend die?”

 

“He’s already dead!” Tony’s sentence was punctuated by a harsh screech of feedback.

 

“Steve we’ve got company!” Sam yelled, whirling around to face a herd of zombies. There had to be at least twenty of them, marching out of sync with each other. Their gray eyes were blind, but they had clearly picked up the scent of their prey.

 

“Tony!” Steve was frantic now. “You’ve gotta let us up!”

 

“What’s going on?” A third fainter voice said over the intercom. “Oh my God.”

 

Steve recognized this voice as well. “Tasha!” he tripped forward. “Open the door.”

 

“What the hell- Tony, let him up.” Her voice was icy.

 

“Do you see what he’s go-“

 

“Tony. Let him up.”

 

The grate suddenly began to rise, the metal scraping as it moved. “Come on, come on,” Steve mumbled under his breath as he watched it rise.

 

“No, no, not all the way up!” Sam said, still watching the approaching herd. “It’ll never shut in time. We can climb underneath.”

 

Steve whipped around, and decided Sam was right. “Okay! Stop! That’s good enough,” he said. The gate was at about waist level. The two stooped down and Steve pressed a hand to the glass doors. They didn’t give. “Tony?”

 

“I have to override the door controls! They don’t automatically unlock until the gate goes up all the way!”

 

Steve turned again. Bucky was struggling against his restraints in the direction of the herd. One of them had already outstretched a bony hand that appeared to be missing two fingers.

 

“No rush!” Steve shouted sarcastically.

 

“Hey, hey! Be nice! I might change my mind,” Tony replied. There was a loud beep from the other side of the doors followed by the sound of intricate metal pieces moving inside of the lock. Steve shoved at the door again and this time it gave way. He and Sam stumbled in and he yanked at Bucky’s lead. Bucky’s legs buckled and he fell to the ground, writhing angrily. Steve swore loudly and began reeling his friend in.

 

“Steve-“ Tony’s crackly voice said over the intercom.

 

“Don’t you fucking dare!” Steve yelled, desperately pulling Bucky toward him. “Don’t you close that gate!”

 

Sam was at his side, helping him pull. A few moments later Steve vaguely registered the sound of an elevator ding and high-heels against marble. “Come on-“ he barely registered Natasha’s voice. “Let’s bring him home.” He watched as she slipped out of the door and ducked under the gate.

  
“Natasha!” He heard himself yell. She stooped down to begin dragging Bucky toward the door. Once they cleared the grate, Tony dropped it. Not a moment later, twenty dead bodies were pressing themselves against the gate. Their hideous, distorted forms were even uglier up close.

 

He got up and helped her drag Bucky inside. The door shut and automatically locked behind them. For a second, the only sound was their labored breathing before Natasha laughed.

 

Steve looked at her in surprise. “Sorry, it’s just you sure know how to make an entrance.”

 

* * *

 

 

Steve’s head was pounding. Everything was a fucking debate with Tony. It had taken nearly ten minutes of arguing before Hank stepped in and insisted that experimenting on a subject like Bucky would be beneficial for his project.

 

After that it was just a matter of getting Sam over to Helen’s lab so she could fix him up. Then came the worst part. Waiting. He found himself sitting on a comfortable leather sofa, looking out over the dark skyline. His mind was tearing itself apart between weighing the outcomes of Dr. Pym’s procedure and worrying about what it might produce even if it was successful. He already knew that the Bucky that was coming back wouldn’t be the same. And, honestly, he was perfectly fine with that. He just wanted to look into his friend’s eyes and see him looking back. Really looking. Not just registering his presence with that empty, milky stare.

 

At some point, Tony had come to sit next to him. “Hey. I’m really glad you made it back in one piece.”

 

“Thanks,” Steve replied flatly.

 

“I’m just worried about you-“

 

“I told you, I’m fine.”

 

“Yeah, shoulda known. Boy scout and everything. Gotta be ready for anything. Guess anything includes…well what you’ve been dealing with.”

 

Steve took a few breaths before he finally looked Tony in the eyes. Tony’s expression betrayed him. He looked like he was bracing for Steve to punch him. “Who said I was a boy scout?”

 

Tony laughed and shook his head. “Thinking of sticking around this time?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Even if- y’know. Shit goes south?”

 

“No matter what happens, there’s nothing for me out there anymore,” Steve said, looking down at his hands.

 

Tony clapped a hand to his shoulder. “It’s going to be fine. And if it’s not, well- I’ll keep a bottle of vintage cold for ya.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

* * *

 

He must have passed out because he was awoken by quiet voices that sounded too far away. “No, let’s not.” He recognized Natasha’s voice. “Let him sleep. He’s been through enough.”

 

“He’d want to know how it turned out. As soon as possible.” That was Tony’s voice.

 

“Look at him!” Natasha whispered harshly. “He hasn’t slept in God knows how long.”

 

“I too think he should be told.” He recognized Thor’s voice.

 

“Told what?” Steve said groggily. He could almost feel Natasha’s exasperated eye roll happening.

 

“It’s about Bucky.”

 

* * *

 

Bucky was strapped to the examination table. He somehow looked thinner under the harsh fluorescent lights. His cheeks were hollowed out and his bones pressed at harsh angles under his thin, papery skin. His empty eyes were fixed on he ceiling and his jaw was slacked. The entire room was still and Steve was suddenly filled with that uncomfortable pins-and-needles feeling. This wasn’t real. It felt like it was happening on the other side of a screen. Like he was watching it play out. Like Saturday morning cartoons.

 

“He was just too far gone,” Hank explained. His voice was too technical…too sterile. Like the lab he operated in. “Helen and I tried our best. The mental regeneration was difficult, his nerves just aren’t firing. She was mostly successful in healing the nasty stuff that was going on in him.”

 

His words were washing over Steve. “I’d like to be left alone, if you don’t mind,” he heard himself say.

 

“Of course.”

 

He heard the door close behind him and he was gripped by a sick feeling in his stomach. He wasn’t sure what to say. This wasn’t the kind of thing you prepared for. He licked his lips before he began. “I guess, I’m sorry. I’m sorry that this happened. I’m sorry that I wasn’t there- to-“ he took a deep breath, feeling tears well in his eyes. “To protect you. You were always there for me. Always protecting me and shit and I couldn’t even be there to return the favor and now-“

 

He took one of Bucky’s cold, bony hands in his own. After a few deep breaths, the tears began to flow freely. “Now you’ll never know how I really feel. I love you, Buck. I’ve always loved you. I just hate that it took all of this shit to make me realize it.” For a few moments he just looked down at his friend’s face. He brushed a strand of Bucky’s stringy, dark hair from his face and tucked it behind his ear. “See ya on the other side.” He turned to leave.

 

He had made it to the door when he heard a faint, raspy voice from behind him.

 

“Steve?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It felt like a natural place to wrap this up. Thank you to everyone who's stuck with this fic beginning to end. Thank you to everyone who lit the fire under my ass that helped me to get this fic done.
> 
> The ending is supposed to be open ended. I might write a sequel in the future, but this leaves it open for you to weave your own happy endings since we've all seen that I'm only really good at writing painful stories LOL


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